A week and a half ago I had my birthday. It was really nifty.
Yesterday I slept until 6:30. Like, p.m. Not so nifty.
Now I have this great disappointment in myself. As in, if this is how I'm spending my time, my life, I might just as well not have it. Not to say that sleeping until after dinner is a regular occurence, but still. There are more worthwhile things to do than sleep. I can sleep when I'm dead.
I've always felt that I have this sort of responsibility to myself to make something of myself, spend every moment I can doing something that will benefit somebody, learn about something new every day, you know, be a better person. And I feel so terribly guilty when I don't. But I shouldn't. I think. Well, I dunno, maybe I should. I don't like knowing that I've wasted an entire day that I will never get back.
Maybe I'll get over it.
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No, you won't sleep when you're dead. You'll be dead when you're dead. Sleeping is a period of unconsciousness during the which the body is recharged for the inevitable period of wakefulness that will follow it. Being dead has no period of wakefulness following it. It's just being dead. Forever.
There's no need to feel terribly guilty about one day spent sleeping. Maybe you needed significantly more recharging than usual. Maybe you were feeling a little bit in the dumps. Maybe the bed was just extra comfy. Whatever the case, the occasional bed-day never killed anyone. And for those able to enjoy a guilt-free bed-day, probably did those people a whole lot of good.
Here's to bed-days!
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