Sleep: It's for the weak.

I have long had the problem of not getting to sleep on time. In fact, that sound's reasonable: "not getting to sleep on time." It's like I'm lying to you and saying I got to sleep about an hour late and that's what ruined my day. I don't get to sleep at night. That's the problem.

Around four or five AM every night I'll finally get my proverbial shit together and get in bed. The problem with beds being that they are often near televisions. I have learned, over the course of the past few years, that late night television scheduling doesn't always suck. After 3 AM you can still watch Family Guy, Metalacolypse and reruns of Numb3rs. Eventually, I talk myself into turning off the television, normally around the time I hear my sister leaving for school--or depending on where I'm sleeping, friends getting ready for work or class. This is about the part of the night (morning) where the self-loathing really begins to sink in.

This particular morning was not haunted by siblings, friends or roommates. Rather, it was grandparents. I would (despite the inherit danger of doing so) assume. This weekend was the neighborhood garage sale, and only grandparents show up to garage sales at 6:30 AM. My dogs found this process very interesting, so interesting in fact, that they felt everyone else should know about it--now.

There were moments where I (mistakenly) thought I could find a quiet gap of silence to slip into and fall asleep. I guess the lag between yard sales for the strolling customers was just large enough to taunt me with moments of quiet. In one such gap work called. I substitute teach a few days a week and the system requires you to type in a series of numbers indicating whether or not you are willing and able to work. Hitting "two" means you aren't available.

I hit "two."

My house phone is also attached to the subbing system--in case I legitimately miss a call, I can still pick up the hours. I do not have a house phone in my room--for to hit "two" with.

My mother, however, does. She hit "one."

At this point sleep is just another day dream, something that exists for other people--those people. Underprivileged people such as I do not deserve to sleep.

This is when I begin repeating to myself, over and over, my mantra.

Sleep is for the weak.

I am not weak.

Just very, very tired.