Sleep is one thing I can never seem to get enough of. When I wake up in the morning, I am already thinking about whether or not I’ll be able to take a nap. I absolutely love sleeping in the middle of the day. I could have slept four hours this afternoon, easy. Alas, my guilt convinced me to rise.
And yet, when I go to bed, it takes me ages to fall asleep, and I sleep fitfully throughout the night. Perhaps if I slept more restfully and completely during normal hours, I wouldn’t need to take a nap. It’s a perplexing dilemma.
I have a love hate relationship with sleep. Sometimes I absolutely love indulging in a luxurious nap. My husband thinks napping is a waste of time, and occasionally, I can see his point. If I never had to sleep, think of all I could accomplish. I could read twice as many books, see twice as many movies, go twice as many places. I would have time to do everything I wanted.
I can’t wait to cuddle up in my bed with my books. I can’t wait to dream and forget my worries for a short time. The morning will come soon enough, as much as I hate to see it. At least tomorrow I won’t have to rise before the sun. That’s just unnatural. If it’s something I must do, I might as well enjoy it.