Off to Africa

I am a sleeper. I like to sleep. I sleep a lot. Ideally, I mean, I sleep a lot. Eight hours is a mere pittance, the lowest acceptable number. I like 9. Or 10. Or more. My perfect world would have 26 or 27 hour days so that I could sleep for 10 hours and then be up for about 16 or 17 and then go back to sleep and sleep for 10 hours again, because that is the schedule that my body likes. So too bad I can't sleep anymore. I can't go to bed - I'm too wired. I can't sleep - I just lay there with my heart beating too fast. I can't stay asleep - I wake up at 5:30 or 6 am, all buzzed and ready to get up. And then I can't get up - when my alarm clock goes off, I want to throw up with tiredness and when I stand up I reel. Really, I do. I almost tip over. It's not a pretty picture. And it isn't the number of hours. I have the time to sleep. Well, to sleep more than I do. Or I could make time. But my body is somehow convinced that the world will end, end I say, if I stop to sleep. Too much law school. Too much to do. Too much on the to do list. And I'm sure I've forgotten some things that should be on there.

It is 2354 hrs. I have to get up at 0630 hrs. I'm not sleepy, even though I only slept for 5 hours last night. But this morning was the morning of the reeling. No more reeling, really. I don't like it.