Addictions are hairy things. When I look at my own life, there's hardly anything I couldn't live without - really nothing. Except this:
It's not really the bed I need. (Although, the high thread count sheets and fluffy down duvet are nothing to scoff at.) It's sleep. I crave it in a way that rivals a heroin addict hankering for a hit. And not just a little bit of sleep. A lot of it. I slept 9.5 hours just last night and could have gone 2-3 more hours, easy breezy. The phone is off, the room is dark, and the temperature hovers at 64. All in attempts to keep me on that heavenly high just a tad longer.
I can make it through long days, just by repeating the mantra "You'll get to sleep late on Saturday." I plan my schedule for meetings that start at 10am and brunches that take place at noon in order to feed my habit. On Sundays, I wake up extra early for Jesus, say "Hi" and then immediately think "I can't wait for my Sunday nap." I can prompt instant hyperventilation at the very thought of birthing children who will hatefully steal my drug of choice. I walk fast, talk fast, type fast, eat fast, and watch TV fast to support the theory: Get more done while awake, sleep even longer.
Some of you might say "I'm sleeping the day away" or "You have a problem."
I say "Stick it."
