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Getting a good eight hours is tough these days. In bed by 10, looking at your phone until midnight and then just staring into darkness. It’s the result of a restless mind worrying about the troubles of life. The brain races irrationally, and at a certain point, you resign yourself to four hours…hopefully.
- Oh, man. My bed is so comfortable.
- Should sleep really well tonight.
- I think I’ll wake up early and make a good breakfast.
- Nah. I’ll just grab a Clif bar on the way to work.
- Did I DVR Letterman?
- Better check. Yep. Good.
- One last check of Twitter.
- I wish Rob Delaney would lay off the political stuff.
- Might as well check Facebook. Instagram too.
- I think I have restless legs syndrome.
- Oh, man. My bed is not comfortable anymore.
- I have to pee, but I don’t want to get out of bed.
- Okay. If I fall asleep now, I can still get seven hours.
- Shouldn’t have sent that email so late to my boss. They probably think I’m weird.
- Gotta get the rent check in the mail tomorrow.
- My alarm is set, right? Yeah, but I’ll add another one two minutes after the last one.
- Shouldn’t have drank that pre-workout so late.
- Is it too late for a Tylenol PM?
- Alright, I’ll just get six hours.
- (opens incognito window)
- I wonder what my sleep number is.
- Anybody on Gchat?
- I’m hungry.
- I have nothing to eat.
- Too late to start drinking. Maybe just one beer.
- Can still get six hours.
- Five hours?
- I should write a book.
- My back hurts.
- Four hours is a good even number. I’ve worked with less.
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Brian McGannon
What do I love? I love happy hour, a good golf tan, and getting moderately drunk during dinner.
@BrianMcGannon
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