Tuesday, September 25, 2007

I Really Want To Get To Bed

. . .but I have to write this blog first. I don’t want to break the unbroken chain, to pause while crossing the traffic of life. Doing so might bring me bad luck; I have already not forwarded a chain letter this afternoon and I shudder to think of what might happen when I go out for the newspapers before turning in.

Actually, I saw yet another scientific article today backing up a previous study which, itself, confirmed someone’s work about why we sleep. Basically, to condense it for our readers here, the answer is: “We don’t know.” Or: “We haven’t the faintest idea.”

My shared-custody cat has, over the period of a day, 14 hours with its eyes closed (and, I insist, sometimes snoring). I’ve been told that if it doesn’t get that much sleep regularly, it can die from lack of. We are the minimums in the animal world, with our eight hours, seven hours, whatever. But that still means we sleep away a third of our lives when, the efficiency expert would note, we could be doing something far more practical.

Stay up as long as we wish, yet our brain starts shutting down. We don’t respond as quickly as we should, we start to see and hear things, or don’t see and hear them. We get that “tired” feeling and start going unconscious. Our head nods, we slump and eventually someone comes in to check on us or, worse, wake us up.

Some people need to be in their own bed. I’m lucky there; any place is just fine for me and neither noise nor light makes a bit of difference. Wake me when it’s time.


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