At some point in college (I think around my junior year) I realized that sleep made everything about life better and forever left behind the stigma associated with sleeping (i.e. sleeping a lot makes you like an old person, sleep when you’re dead it’s a waste of time, etc).
I sleep best when I’m all wrapped up in Carl.
I love to wear pants to bed, but can’t stand any kind of shirt.
When I don’t sleep enough, one of two things happens; 1) I get extremely cranky and waspish or 2) I stop making sense entirely.
I can’t sleep in on weekends. Not unless I was very very very drunk the night before. I’m usually up and going by eightish.
I used to sleep in very weird places when I was little, like under my bed, the floor of my closet, in the corner behind our yellow chair. I have no memory as to why.
I have also used sleep as a self defense mechanism, much like a possum.
I can’t sleep in a room that’s too hot, but I can sleep in a room that’s twenty below.
I wish I were sleeping right now, but instead, I’m just going back to work. : (
