Say what you want about sleep, but it and I have come to a mutual understanding a long time ago: Don’t disturb me and I would indulge you for 3 hours a day.
These stupid medical people would come and tell me: Oh, that’s bad. That’s terrible! Tragic indeed. Take this paper with the worst handwriting and head to the pharmacist; he will give you more than enough pills to rest you to sleep in and for more than 3 hours.
My wife, she will say: Since I have known you, you have been a grumpy morning person. Why don’t you listen to Doctor Know-it-all, he knows a lot about these kinds of situations. Who knows? You might need a little bit of sleep to un-grump you.
They sound rational but they do not know, that I have tried sleep a couple of times and it has shown me more than enough to prove that it is not capable and never will be.
Like when I slept over 3hours and did not hear my mom coughing at night. She coughed and coughed until it assuredly became her last words on earth. *cough* *cough*, went my mom, *wake* *up*, she meant. But sleep wouldn’t let me.
Or like when I slept off at the steering wheel, and drove into a huge tree. The bulk of the accident regrettably happened to the tree – for it sought no troubles, had no troubles and could not defend itself from no troubles. And so for me, although I sat on a wheel chair for a year, I still had no right to feel equal pain to the tree that fell for me.
Or when sleep made a fatal show of itself because we, in those days, were cozy with one another. On the huge projection of the church’s Sunday sermon, as the camera lens offered a view of the attentive flock, sleep beckoned to reproach to rest upon my shoulder as I dozed off nodding my head and causing an eruption of laughter: Bla Bla Bla, what a tired sheep this is.
So I figured, sleep has done more harm than good to me – why keep it? To keep being friendly with sleep is to suicidal, I believe. So I said to it: Old man, out of respect, I would entertain you for only three hours of my day.
He laughed and said: Okay then, I would take the reduced hours but you must know that it comes with its consequences.
What? I asked.
Google it. He pointed at the phone in my pocket.
I have not and shall not Google it. For it is little slips like this that make sleep the boss of man.
On an unrelated note though, I have become more depressed, uglier, less focused and more forgetful since that deal. But totally unrelated though…
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