I love sleep. If I could write a sonnet or an ode, it would be to sleep. Sometimes I crawl in the covers at night, and the relief and joy is so intense that it is a wonder I ever get out of bed. Ever.
My mother tells me I was always a kid that needed a lot of sleeps--still napping occasionally in the afternoons after coming home from kindergarten. Except for the ages of about 6-15, I have been a champion napper. I can nap for three or four hours in the middle of the day. No problem. None of that wimpy (and effective) power napping for me. No sir. I'm going to sleep until I've had at least two REM cycles.
Here is my favorite illustrative story: Plantboy and I got married the day after I finished my first teaching job. As a newbie teacher I was pretty much clueless about end-of-year protocol and made a huge project due for my AP class the LAST DAY OF SCHOOL. Not the last working day, I mean the last day when everybody is signing yearbooks and nobody goes to class. School let out by eleven, and I spent a long, feverish day grading the projects that actually were turned in, and trying to work out how to fairly grade those that weren't when I realized what a complete moron I was. Most of the kids were seniors, for crying out loud! Anyway, I finally got the grades in, though I'd been seriously tempted to just chuck it all. I was, after all, getting married the next morning; and I was, after all, not going back to that school. Duty called, and I got home about five that day. Utterly exhausted.
I've recounted that emotional day here before. The rain, which had lasted all week, was hourly erasing the hope of the outdoor wedding we had planned for all spring. Last minute changes were made, Plantboy finally came into town after living in another state and working for a month, and I was a wreck. The wedding day stress melted into honeymoon stress over money, tickets, travel, sex, etc. etc. By the time we arrived at our beautiful cottage on the Puget Sound I was emotionally and physically at my limit. Our second afternoon at the house, I laid down for a "nap" as I told Plantboy. I slept for six hours.
That section of our honeymoon videotape is hilarious. Plantboy took a long walk BY HIMSELF along the beach videotaping twenty different varieties of trees. He taped every part of our cabin. He taped me sleeping. He may have taken my pulse once. It is safe to say that my dear, sweet husband got a taste very early on exactly what he was dealing with when it came to me and sleep. He didn't learn about my attractive snoring until I was pregnant the first time.
This is the actual cottage. I can't decide what I want more this minute--to book a weekend and find someone to farm the kids off on, or just a really, llllloooooonnnnnngggggg nap.
Look at that bed! My gosh I'm tired . . . .
I love sleep.