I love sleep. I love anticipating sleep (which often gets me through the day), putting on my pajamas (which relaxes me in itself), and then slipping into bed and finally being able to stop, once in the day. I’m not one to worry about the day ahead when I get in to bed, because I know I need to sleep, so why fret about what I’m going to do tomorrow when I’ve got a wondrous few hours of rest right now, just for me? I love being able to think about whatever I want, and watching the quiet outside. I love cracking out my back so I can be taller in the morning when I get up (ok, that’s not really the reason). I love snuggling up inside my blankets and closing my eyes to silence.
Sleep is so therapeutic. Sometimes I’m sorry I’m missing out on being aware of all my wonderful sleep time. Whenever I am sick (which is rare anyways), usually all I need is a good dose of comfy time in my bed to feel better. I don’t think I could live on the days I work if I didn’t get a nap in in the afternoons - I couldn’t survive the mornings, not having a nap to look forward to, or the evenings, where sometimes work feels like a millenia. I feel so sorry for people like Edward Cullen who don’t get to experience the exhilaration of a truly exhausted sleep.
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