There is no substitute for sleep. No amount of looking on the bright side, gratefulness or coffee, feels quite the same as sleeping eight straight hours.
There are people who believed if they try hard enough and set their mind to it they could live on sunlight alone. They died.
Last night, my husband put me to bed at 10:30 and I immediately fell asleep. I don’t even have a clue when the baby fell asleep, because I did not stir. She woke me at 6:45. Eight straight hours.
I feel like a different person. That paper he handed me to read last night no longer feels like an impossible task. After work, I’ll probably glance at it and throw it out with the junk mail. That pile of clothes sitting on the edge of my couch. They aren’t going to kill me. It’s going to take three minutes to put them away.
Sleep. There is nothing like it.
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