If I'm lucky, I'll get to sleep in one day a week, maybe. I can live with this, because it's in my job description right next to the part about scrubbing gross things off of bathroom floors...
So if I could meet the section of my brain in charge of sleep, I would ask him/her why, when given the chance to get an overabundant amount of sleep - they've instead decided to hear every small noise that should happen within a mile radius of my bedroom. So rise-and-shine rolls around, Christian slowly and reluctantly gets up with Peter, leaving me to a warm bed, two fluffy pillows, and two nice heavy quilts. Heaven on a cold morning, basically.
Does the perfect environment, and knowing I won't get this opportunity for -at least- a week make me shut the blinds in my head and sleep? No. An epic battle raged in my head, and the territory at stake being another 3 hours of sleep. I won. But dammit why was it so hard?
(video related this time)
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