Last night (actually, it's still dark as I write, but just after 6 am) I slept moderately, let's say comparatively, well - the sleep app says 71%, which is much better than usual. I went to sleep between 11 and 12, woke around two (from a fairly pathetic dream about trying to escape ethnic persecution in Europe - who do I think I am) then went back to sleep around 2:30 until just after 5. It's a nonsense, really. Nancy was here until after five, at which point she got up but refused to go out until the second time I gave her the option. (She just came back in, alerting me to her requirements by banging on a clothes rack I have just outside the door). We have had a good weekend together, just hanging out. Sometimes she just looks me in the eye and meows, and I think, you've forgotten what you even want.
Monday, February 20, 2017
what is sleeping for?
Sleeping is ridiculous, and it is one of those things that you really have to wonder - why on earth do we need it? Do we need it? I find this enforced downtime a real drag on my productivity. Like a lot of things, I also find it depressing how so many people claim to love sleeping, which seems to me like craving death, or at least, abnegating responsibility. I get nothing out of sleeping except it makes me less tired. I also, as I whinge frequently here, find it hard to do. It's so irritating to be compelled to do something, yet not be at all desirous of it, and to then find it so difficult to achieve.