Who did I snap at during my work day? I don't even remember. What I do know is that it affirms that I absolutely need to get my eight hours, or I just devolve into a cranky child, short-tempered and wet-eared, being more of a jackass than normal.
I envy those that get by on four hours of sleep a night, and are fresh and ready to go. If we live to the same age, they will have lived one-sixth more than I have, due to that extra time up and doing stuff. I think about it, and I'd almost rather sleep every day than be doing stuff straight.
There's a book I read by Iain Banks, probably Consider Phlebas. One of the characters was able to put each hemisphere of his brain to sleep independently of the other. For eight hours of the day, he was coldly logical. For eight hours, he was incredibly creative. And for eight hours, it was all working together. What I wouldn't give for that.
The dolphins, they put half their brain to sleep also. I wouldn't mind being a dolphin. Swimming free for a few years, then ending up as someone's tuna sandwich. God I'm tired and illucid. Hell, is that even a word?
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