The City May Never Sleep, But I Sure Do

There are few things I enjoy more than going to sleep at night. I crawl under the covers, take the contacts out, get the tape rolling on whatever audiobook I'm listening to at the time, kill the light, and wait for the cat to settle down atop my left hand (it's an odd fixation of hers). I'm usually asleep within a few short minutes.

And when I wake up in the morning-even if I've slept well and drooly-I can't help but think "Man, I sure do wish I could sleep a few more hours."

I don't, though. That Protestant Work Ethic, or PWE, takes over. I get up, stumble about, get myself together, then head out to the train and to work, already looking forward to the time when I can go to sleep again. In many cases, it's adrenaline alone that gets me into the office in the morning before I know what's happening. Sometimes if I come straight home after work, I'll even end up taking an accidental nap sometime before going to bed officially.

I envy my cat. Sometimes she'll get up when I do, bleary-eyed and groggy. She'll stumble into the bathroom to get a drink. Then she'll go back to bed-which is inevitably where I know I'll find her whenever I get home. And then she'll yell at me for waking her up. Damn show-off cat, always rubbing it in.

This isn't just the result of getting older, as might be suspected. It's always been the case. When I was in junior high, I liked sleeping so much that I'd go up to bed around 6:30, or whenever I finished drying the dishes. Then I'd get up around 3 or 3:30 in the morning. My parents found this very odd, but as I tried to explain to them, it was the best time in the world to do my homework. There are no distractions at 3:30 in the morning.

I followed the same schedule when I first started college. You'd think this might annoy a roommate, but, as it happens, things worked out quite well. Tom (the roommate) kept a schedule that was almost the polar opposite-he'd return from studying at the library about 3 or 3:30, and sleep all day. So there was no friction.

I've since adjusted that schedule by a few hours for convenience sake, but still get up around 4:45. A lot of it has to do with insuring ease of travel, and avoiding people as much as possible.

When Morgan and I are together, I find it easy to stay up later than I usually might because I love talking to her. When she's there, I also find it very easy to stuff that pesky PWE in the back corner of my brain and stay in bed later in the mornings.

I've discovered, over the years, that I can sleep almost anywhere, with the exception of cars, airplanes and buses. I can sleep on subway trains just fine. I've slept in the woods and on sidewalks and in bar bathrooms. I fall asleep on my own floor a lot, and sitting upright in chairs. Morgan and I saw a guy in the East Village once who had me beat hands-down. We were on our way somewhere down around 3rd or 4th St., I think it was, when we saw this guy dead asleep atop a newspaper box. He was on his back, his legs dangling off one side, his head and arms dangling off the other, snoring away. Another time we saw the same guy asleep across the top of a garbage can. Now that was a guy who enjoys sleeping!

If I'm under a lot of stress or I'm anticipating something I don't want to face, I'll fall asleep. If I'm sick or hungover, the first thing on my mind is sleep. Even if I'm in a particularly good mood, the prospect of a nap just makes everything seem even better.

Funny thing is, in the end I really don't sleep any more than most people. Less, even. But I want to. I lust after sleep. I don't know why this is. Sometimes, in fact, I feel horrible guilt and shame over how much I enjoy sleeping. Life is a miracle, don't you know. Carpe diem and all that. Celebrate the rich tapestry of the blah, blah, blah. I feel like I should be out there doing something, experiencing things, running through the streets, screaming "Hello world-show me what you got!" Anything but shutting down the whole system for a few more hours of wasted time.

But I usually get over the guilt pretty quick, thank god. And when I'm asleep, of course, I can forget about it completely.

One thing I've found that helps a lot with this is taking a look at my cat again. We as humans are infected with this whole "life's rich tapestry, live every moment" hoo-hah. But you'd think if there were creatures on this planet who understood that implicitly, it would be animals, right? No jobs to bother with, no bills to pay, no rush hour traffic, no long lines at the post office. Nothing stands between them and enjoying life to the fullest. Yet if you look at them in the wild or in your apartment-even at the zoo-what the hell are they doing most of the time? Sleeping, that's what! They know the score.

Then there are those cultures who believe that our dream lives are just as valid and real as our waking lives. Well, let me tell you-my dreams (and I've been having a lot of them lately), even when they're horrifying or frustrating, are a hell of a lot more interesting than another trip up to the D'Agostino's, or dealing with most of you.

Oh, I know, "I'll sleep when I'm dead," right? Well that's just fine by me. I could use a nap right now, come to think of it.