I sleep because I hunger for oblivion. I want eight hours of no thoughts, no thinks, no thunks. I am not interested in what my semi-conscious and other bits of my brain box are having meetings about. I care not for their conclusions. If they want me to know that shit they can jolly well get in touch while I am awake. And I'm awake a lot more than I am asleep.
Last night I slept for almost eight hours. With only a small person burrowing in beside me to briefly interrupt the slumbering. Well and then when she decided she had to be in the middle and crawled across me. But otherwise, I slept. Comfortably. Cosily. Snorily.
My man rose to the waking of the baby, without waking me and took her downstairs and I slumbered on until 8 am.
Almost eight hours.
I had no idea just how tired I was.
But now that I am less so, I am looking forward to next year's eight hour sleep too.
That is all.