This morning, my bed finally reached – I kid you not – the elusive Perfect Temperature.  That moment where even your feet are nice and warm, but you don’t feel like you’re in an oven.  That just makes everything better, doesn’t it?  The mattress is so soft, and the covers are pulled up around your shoulders like a warm hug, and the pillow has that huge dent in the middle so it just kind of swallows your head and yet somehow it’s comfortable.  You’re not really awake yet, you’re still floating in between a haze of dreaming and daydreaming.  This was my morning, and I tell you, it was perfect.

Too bad I wasn’t awake to enjoy it until my alarm went off for the fourth time and I woke up to the sound of pouring rain and the knowledge that I was running late.

You know, sleep is probably my favorite activity in the entire world.  It’s just cruel that I’m never awake to enjoy it.  What’s the deal, Universe?  You let us lie down and be comfortable and go off on these wild adventures called dreams, and you hardly ever let us remember any of them except for the one where we just happen to have gotten ourselves stuck to the ground in the nude at the same time that we’re about to be late for class.  And, with any luck at all, you keep us in this stupor long enough that by the time we wake up, we really are late for class and we’re stuck to the bed by our own lack of willpower.  (As for the nudity, no comment.)

So what’s the point?  According to my psychology textbook, there are several options:

Sleep helps reinforce memories.  I got at least two hours of sleep a night my freshman year of high school, and I couldn’t remember a darn thing.  False.

Sleep allows us to make sense of the day’s events.  Actually, I can’t remember the last time I went to school naked, was late for class, and stepped in wet cement.  At least not on the same day.  False.

Sleep protects us.  The last time my mom tried to get me to go shopping with her… I didn’t wake up.  True!