There once was a girl….

Once upon a time there was a girl. She was devastatingly beautiful, sweet, personable, and had incredible, beyond extraordinary intelligence. Oh, and she was modest too.

The girl lived in a quaint little palace, which had a remarkable resemblance to a brick-home with a detached garage and a little more than a postage stamp of a backyard. But a palace it was nonetheless, where she lived with her prince, who wore corduroy pants and drove a VW Bus.

The girl was happy, content, and peaceful. She was loyal and dutiful to her prince, who was great in turn.

Then one day something happened. The girl went crazy.

Well, not actually crazy, like the girl’s mother who threatened to harm herself in the doctor’s office and was carted away to the local rest and relaxation facility.

More of crazy as in a longing for something to happen. Something different. A change. But this longing led to loss of sense, and the loss of sense led to temporary insanity.

And soon the girl found herself confused and unsure. Things became all mixed up and the girl didn’t know what to do.

For the first time, she could remember, the girl didn’t listen to her little voice inside. She let it take a vacation and just went with whatever happened. This was all new to the girl who had never before had such an experience. She had always been reliable and known to do the right thing. But the girl wasn’t doing the right thing, and it was…..fun.

But the girl couldn’t forget her loyalty to the prince, who was everything she had ever wanted. So the girl struggled and she ran to her friend for help — her friend who was a bit older, and who had, shall we say a flawed viewpoint when it comes to the matters the girl was currently battling.

He made her see some awful truths, but made her feel better about her problems and her temporary insanity, as he knew the girl and knew that she needed a bit of insanity.

But everywhere the girl turned it seemed she was wrong, even though in her heart it felt OK. But being someone who doesn’t like to harm anyone else, the girl struggled between doing what she felt was best for her or what was best for the people around her. And she was torn and again confused and unsure.

So the girl, who had taken up a habit of these special pills which grew in the village, known as nicotine lozenges to the natives, threw up her hands in absolute desperation and said “I guess I will let be what is to be.”

Cause even though it was selfish and the temporary insanity would be frowned upon by the masses and the girl condemned, in the end what’s a girl to do?

Sleep With Me

I have never understood those people who knock sleep. And there are so many of them.

“It’s the secret of success.” “Why waste time when you can be getting more done.” “I don’t need it.” “I can function on a couple of hours.”

Ok, so this may be the reason why I’m not incredibly successful as of yet, or why I just can’t get everything done, but  I will say this much, as I am sitting here typing away, avoiding all of the things I should be doing, knowing I have some time between me and my pillow, all I can think about is my blanket and my pajamas, with me in the latter, while wrapped in the former. Ahhh…so good.

Perhaps, part of my longing comes from the fact that my schedule was thrown off a bit this week, as my car decided to go on an unexpected hiatus. Living an hour from work means, having to wake up super, absolutely freaking early, to be shuttled around, and hang out at 7-11s at 6:45 a.m., so you can make it to work on time without inconveniencing any of the people who are doing the shuttling.

I have always loved sleep and my lack of it makes me even more enamored.

Listen, I have to give props to those who can do without. Seriously. Good for you. And let’s not even throw in the crazy candidates and their politicking, no-sleep madness. Twice my age, nearly, and working on two hour increments. Go for it.

But that is just not me.  I like everything about sleeping. I like the comfy clothes, the sheets, the fluffy pillows. Laying there, taking deep breaths, letting the day melt away. Feeling all warm and cozy. Wiggling my toes, because they are finally free from the constraining heels that I feel I have to wear, because well, they go with the outfit, and in which I run around like a maniac.

Then you close your eyes, and lay your head down. And take a deep breath, and smile, because you are so happy to finally be in bed. Then you fall asleep.

OK, this is where it gets somehwat sketchy for me from time to time, as I, on occasion, have extremely vivid dreams, and often anxiety ones where I am back in college and I suddenly realize that I have a class I completely forgot about, and the semester is almost over an I am going to fail and….

Anyway,  from my complete rambling, I am sure it’s apparent I am well over due for some good old sleep. And since I happen to not be working tomorrow, I am looking even more forward to my late (well, late for me) morning wake up, where I switch back and forth between Night Court and CNN. Yeah!

So….much belabored point….

For all you fellow sleepers, do not be ashamed. Do not feel pressured that you have to fall into some crazy, whacked out viewpoint that sleeping is bad. That if you enjoy sleep you are a slacker, or you are going to fall behind. It may not be the fashionable thing to admit you like to get your seven hours, or eight, whatever, but if we are going to bring a good night’s sleep back into fashion, we cannot be forced to hide our true feelings.

So you’ll reach success a little bit later, or you didn’t get it all done in one day. Who cares? At least you’ll be well-rested, eye-bag free, and able to enjoy life just a little bit more.

Let the non-sleepers drive the number of Starbucks’ to an astronomical number, and when they finally pass out from utter exhaustion, we’ll stroll right in, bright-eyed and bushy-tailed.