Sleepless in My Apartment

I'm not completely sleepless, I get my Surgeon General's recommended daily allowance of six to eight hours in a 24-hour period. But, and I'm sure I'm not alone in this, I don't get it all consecutively. Three hours here, two-and-a-half there, especially on the weekends. When you work while everyone else sleeps, you get to be creative with how you organize your time. You are freed of the "ever since I can remember" requirement to sleep only between 9 or 10 pm and 7 am. So I sleep from 10 am to 2 pm, get up for a glass of water, some Lite Ben and Jerry's Ice Cream, and taquitos, and go back to sleep. I live the contradictory life of a workaholic/slacker hybrid.

Recently, in an attempt to consolidate my sleeping pattern, I've stimulated the economy (2009-ese for "buy stuff"). I acquired a humidifier, a sound machine and some kick-ass fuzzy socks.

So far, the humidifier and sound machine fail to impress. They both just make me need to pee. Which wakes me up, luckily before I fulfill any needs in situ. I've enjoyed the socks, but I always seem to wake up without them on. I suspect I'm having some sort of awesome dream about Ming Tsai sensually removing my socks while cooking me pot stickers (I have an inexplicable crush on Ming Tsai), which, if true, is totally unfair I don't remember it.

As wedding presents last year, I also acquired a real feather bed, duvet and pillows. I'm not typically a materialistic person, but this has always been an aspiration of mine, so I'm deeply indebted to the relatives who chipped in. Nothing beats snuggling down into a pile of soft bedding.

Except being able to do it at the regularly scheduled time of 11 pm, dammit.