Sleep With Me

In principle, I am opposed to the very biological need for sleep. A third of your life, spent doing absolutely nothing. Not even nothing in an interesting way like, watching Duck Dynasty marathons, creating Star Wars themed playlists, or playing eight hour shifts of Call of Duty, but nothing like looking at the back of your eyelids nothing. Dull if you ask me.

If you’re thirty and slept the requisite eight hours, you’ve already spent ten years of your life sleeping. Ten years sleeping? People get married, divorced and remarried in that time frame. Just think about all of the stuff you can do with that extra time? I mean, that’s what I used to do, as I fought common sense to stay up late and wake up as early as possible in order to squeeze the most out of my waking hours.

But this post isn’t about that I’ll sleep when I’m dead mentality, this post about the concession. The concession that all I want right now, at this very moment while my fingers tip toe across this keyboard, is uninterrupted sleep.

The kind of sleep where I’m watching a television show that I’m interested in but not upset about if I fall asleep on it, and the sleep function on the tv shuts it off ten minutes after I start producing z’s. The kind of sleep where I’m not awakened by one of the triplets who want to pee, or have pee’d and need cleaning, or just decide they all want to sleep with Mom and Dad one by one thirty minutes apart from the other. The kind of sleep where the wife’s fear of all things crawling, produces a sudden yelp, the lights, and then me looking for whatever it was that woke her up for the next seventeen minutes doesn’t wake me. The kind of sleep where my fear of the kids destroying my house in the morning while I try to sleep late doesn’t make me walk downstairs.

That’s the kind of sleep I want right now. Sleep with me.

Snoop Dog Sleeping