I can’t sleep.
No, not just tonight. Ever. I may just name my daughter Insomnia. (Poor future Insomnia is probably praying she’ll be born a boy.)
I’m the queen of having brilliant, world-changing ideas, right as my head hits the pillow. For as long as I can remember, I’ve never been able to fall asleep. My bed, cars, airplanes, you name it, I am staying awake.
Several other members of my family, who shall remain unnamed, can fall asleep like it’s nobody’s business.
Apparently when the Good Lord divided up the sleep talent, he didn’t divvy it up quite evenly.
Anyway, in college, I can only ever recall one all-nighter. The first came as a result of postponing writing a 10 page paper in the hopes the professor would forget about it until the last minute, and thus cancel it. (It wasn’t until about 2 a.m. that I decided on a topic, (Gender equality in professional sports) and finally ran with it.)
Wishful thinking. Good thing I’m a glass-half-full kind of gal.
Thus, I can’t say I understand the “I’ll just pull an all-nighter mentality.” Come hell or high water, at some point before the sun rises, I will be in my bed. Unfortunately, I’m not one of those lucky souls who can go sans sleep, and function normally.
Nope. Sleep deprived, and most likely caffeine-riddled me can’t do it. I crash. Leslie Knope style.
Maybe it’s part of my early onset, Grandma-dom. I just can’t do all-nighters. I can’t. I also can’t sleep upright, so forget about sneakily sleeping in class. I end up dreaming about riding a bike, and then when I inevitably fall of said dream bike, jolt up, knocking things off my desk in the process. Worth the risk? Nah.
Until I master the art of sleeping with my eyes open, I’ll be forever constrained to taking every herbal sleep remedy the good folks at Whole Foods can sell me on, and trying to make myself tired whilst coming up with the next Great American Novel at 3:12 a.m.