Do you know what happens to a person who goes to bed early (or early-ish) two nights in a row? Such a person might find herself feeling positively perky: making fearless grading decisions and thinking that it's not so horrible to grade 40 essay exams, hacking her way through the maze of correlation matrices that seemed overwhelming on Monday, enjoying her family and her responsibilities.
The contrast with today (Stella had another wakeful stretch in the middle of the night -- I blame the gross motor spurt but WHO KNOWS, really) is remarkable. Today I have been backstroking in various time sinks all the livelong day. Today the grading is a soul-sucking burden from under which I shall never get out. That sentence has too many prepositions but hey -- it's NaBloPoMo and editing is optional.
There's this, like, macho thing about needing less sleep than average. Like you're a better person if you can get by on six hours of sleep. Why have I bought into this macho thing? I am not macho. I am a much nicer person and a much happier person if I go to bed instead of staying up late piddling around.
With that I'm going to serenade you with "I fleetly flit, I fly" and I'm not even going to google the quote. (Is that it, though? Fleetly float? Flatly flake? Somebody out there must have seen The Sound of Music more recently than I have.) Good night, all.
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