Sleeping always seems to me to be a waste of valuable time. There are so many other things a person could be doing, especially at night when itís quiet.
There are books Iíll never get a chance to read, and movies I donít have enough time to watch. If I didnít have to sleep, my house might even be clean. Surely with a few extra hours a day, I would have scrubbed the soap scum out of the tub and shampooed the formerly white carpet. I probably still wouldnít have dusted, but thatís just me.
Every night I seem to test my theory. And whenever I successfully avoid sleep long enough at night, I refute the hypothesis the next day by falling asleep at my desk. Today was one of those head-bobbing days when the computer screen was swimming in front of me most of the time. I couldnít make myself fall asleep last night, and I could make myself stay awake today.
So obviously, Iím wrong. Some benefit comes from sleeping. Itís just hard to convince myself of that when Iím finding one more excuse (after another after another) to stay up every night. The facts get in the way. The consequences are too remote to keep me from self-destructive behavior. Tomorrow is just a myth, until it gets here.
Alas, it always gets here way too soon.