Nap hatred, and other slumbering thoughts

Exhaustion does not become me. Nor is it conducive to my work.

But I have to say, the worst part about being insanely tired is waking up after a 15-minute nap that accidentally turns into two hours and you're covered in a pattern of red sleep lines, your throat is as parched as a Sunday morning after the bar, your eyelids are two heavy velvet curtains and daylight is fading into night.

I don't like naps.

The second worst part is the inability to fall asleep at your proper bedtime because you've fucked with your internal sleep schedule. You lie there wondering how you could possibly feel this vividly, bright-eyed awake, having forgotten what that ever felt like in your day-long comatose state.

I didn't always hate naps. I still remember when they used to be a nice, natural part of the day ... when I was in kindergarten. In the middle of our half-day, Ms. F would announce naptime and we would all dutifully unroll our towels on the floor (mostly bright beach ones), she'd flip off the lights and we'd konk out for the mandatory 15 minutes. Then we'd be up and at 'em again.

Did you know that humans are the only species that limit all their sleep to one set time? Others sleep several times a day.

That's it. I can't take any more sleep talk. I'm off to bed to try to combat my sudden wide-eyedness in search of slumber.