How Is It That Denial Got Such A Bad Name, Anyway?

Today I'm grateful for sleep.

Sleep is my drug of choice. I’ve often heard the expression, “I’ll sleep when I’m dead.” Okay, well I’d like to examine the “vitamins” they're popping. I also think it’s a matter of the luck of the swirl of your gene pool, or a predisposition to vital life forces. Maybe next incarnation.

Part of the wonderfulness of sleep is the time right before you fall and the time right as you awaken. Niiiiiiice. Cozy like the womb.


And One could say my love of sleep is simply caving in to my hankering for voluntary denial, which I’ll concede to. So I say to One, then you’ll have to add in your iPods and iPhones and eBooks and (some) sex, to name a few more avenues to inner space travel. None of which I have at the moment, but there's always hope...

Except for the eBook. Never! Please see future post, "My Love of Things Tactile."

I digress. Sleep worship abounds in my house, my bedroom a TajMahal to it. I have spent more time and money on the pursuit of REM perfection than almost anything else in my home. Tempurpedic mattress toppers, memory foam neck support pillows, high thread-count Egyptian cotton sheets, poofiest Swedish comforters, FengShui-correct calm and creamy green walls with accenting very thick window treatments, Turkish robes and Saskatchewanian-made white noise machine - it's a veritable United Nations of yumminess.

Honestly, be not discouraged. Got a problem with sleep? Give me a call. But not after 11pm or before noon.