Last night, I went to bed at 5:30. Yeah, like as in evening news 5:30. I was out until about two, and then I got up for an hour. I watched
Project Runway. Then I went to bed, and I slept until eight. So I got a total of thirteen and a half hours of sleep.
And all that without a single freaky dream. It’s insane. I wonder if I can stay up for Jeopardy tonight?
It’s not really like at both ends. I honestly feel like I’ve just been throwing the whole damn candle in the fireplace for months. I never get to sleep in the way that I like to. I’m nocturnal. I’m pretty reliant on not getting out of bed before noon on Saturday and Sunday to make up my sleep debt. Why do people insist on pretending like they’re so important that they’ve got something vital to do at 9 on Saturday? You’re not that special. Go back to bed.
It ought to be illegal. We should all be locked in our houses until noon, and not allowed to leave. Giant robots could stand guard. Yeah. That’s the ticket. I’m all about a society of enforced laziness via martial law, compulsory cocktails, and working from home a.k.a. working from pajamas.
All I have to do now is get the concept of Business Attire amended to mean Cargo pants and a Hoodie.
And Cocktail Attire would be jeans and a tank top. (I mean, that’s what I wear when I drink cocktails.)
So, I guess what I’m saying is – Here’s to the lazy folks! Stay as bad as you wanna be in bed as long as you wanna be!
It’s a good thing that my job is completely useless, otherwise one of these times when my head falls forward and my forehead smacks the keyboard, I could cause the reactor to self-destruct or something.
Thank heaven for small favors.