045

It astounds me how tired I become sometimes, just by being in bed.  I woke up this morning at six, and after a quick trip to the bathroom, I got back in bed.  I wasn't tired at all, so I browsed my Facebook News Feed from my phone for fifteen minutes or so, liking the things that I missed after going to bed around 11:30.  Once I reached my status that I put up before bed (about my mother's delicious cookies), I closed the app and decided to go back to sleep.  I fell back to sleep easily and didn't wake up again til 11:42, at which time the other half of my bed was taken up by lap-dog wannabe.

I got up then, recognizing that twelve hours was more than enough sleep for the normal functioning adult.  I ate an unhealthy breakfast--or rather brunch--and watched mindless television for an hour.  I came back upstairs and sat at my computer.  Then, I thought to myself, 'Self, you have a netbook.  Why don't you just sit in bed and use the internet from there?'  I couldn't really come up with a suitable argument against myself, so I pulled out my husband pillow, who had been named a year ago but was now nameless due to my inability to remember, and burrowed under my comforter and fleece blanket.  After looking for jobs--in which I discovered that NCIS actually exists and that it is impossible to get a government job without experience--I felt my eyelids begin to sag.  With my lower half heated by blankets and a warm netbook, I was beginning to feel tired once more.  Why does this happen?  Why, when I get ample sleep each night, do I find myself tired?  Is it because I have nothing to do?  Because I'm sure I can find a number of things to get done.

It's times like these that I wonder how I made it by in college with four hours of sleep after writing a five-page essay on The Tempest and a ten-page paper on Much Ado About Nothing, because I didn't bother to work on the former until the last minute.  Then, of course, I have to ask myself, 'How on earth did I pass Shakespeare's Comedies anyway?'