You know what’s really not fair?
Some people can get away with three or four hours of sleep each night. Some people can get seven hours of sleep in three days and be like, “eh, I’m kinda tired, but I’ll be fine.”
This is bullshit.
I get six hours of sleep in one night and I’m falling asleep at my desk.
Four hours and I get head and neck aches.
Less than four hours and I might as well be dead.
Somewhere between 7.5 and 8.5 hours per night seems to be perfect. I feel this is really unfair. Because I frequently have much better things to do than sleep.
Like bake four dozen more cookies. Or read a book. Or do my homework, for once. Or play with Stumbleupon.
I’m trying to be realistic, here.
But, alas, no.
At least eight hours of bullshit sleep needed per night.
Don’t take this the wrong way. I LOVE sleep. We have been involved in a blissfully torrid affair for the last 24 years or so. Each night I wait until sweet sleep comes to embrace me with its loving caress and hold me till the morning, which always comes too quickly. Sometimes we fight, because sleep can be a dick and let me wake up in the middle of a perfectly good sex dream or doesn’t let me wake up soon enough when a murderous zombie is chasing me through the creepy-ass Midway of Fun (in the Carnival of Rape). Or sleep will let me dream about my own personal Mr. Big and wake up to cry for, you know, the rest of the day.
For the most part, we get along, though. Usually I sleep too deeply to remember having those dreams. And it’s probably not fair to blame sleep for the zombiefied projections of my subconscious anyway.
I really need to get some sleep.
I was going to last night, but I baked cookies instead.
I can’t say I feel I made the wrong choice. They were tasty.
I can say that I feel like my eyeballs are crispy today and I wish I had laced a batch with coke so I could make it through class tonight. But I don’t do coke and don’t find it to be easily accessible while I’m baking. Or most other times, for that matter. I mean, I guess if I really needed some I could acquire it, but I’ve never been quite that desperate.
I don’t even like energy drinks.
So, tonight is the night.
Sleep and me. Alone time. And dearest sleep, please bring me some really good dreams.
With Ryan Reynolds in them. Naked and mixing me a mai tai on a tropical beach. Or something. I mean, it's really ultimately at your discretion. I'm just throwing out awesome ideas here. And by "throwing out" I really mean "pick this one or I will kill you".
Then make my dream real life. And take a short vacation.