People always say, “Just go to bed earlier.”
So I did.
I became one of those responsible adults who proudly announces:
“I was asleep by 9:30.”
The next morning, I woke up feeling like I had just survived a 14-hour international flight in the cargo section.
Somehow, no matter what time I go to bed, my body wakes up with the same message:
“We regret to inform you that you are already behind schedule.”
I can sleep 6 hours.
Tired.
I can sleep 8 hours.
Tired.
I can sleep 10 hours.
Now I’m tired and confused.
My alarm goes off and my first thought is always:
“Wow, that was a short nap.”
Then I check the clock and discover I have, in fact, been unconscious for one-third of a day.
Meanwhile, my cat sleeps 17 hours, wakes up energized, sprints through the house at 40 mph, destroys a plant, and somehow still has enough energy to judge me.
Experts recommend a consistent sleep schedule.
I consistently sleep.
The schedule seems optional.
At this point, I’m starting to think sleep is a subscription service.
I keep renewing it every night, but the premium features never unlock.
One day I’ll wake up refreshed.
Until then, I’ll continue going to bed early and arriving at morning somehow already late.
