May 3, 2012


I used to be a champion sleeper. If it was a sport, I'm pretty sure I would win.

Let me give you an example.

One summer I was coaching basketball at a weeklong camp.
I was tired.
We were offsite and at a gym for the whole day with 80 tween girls.
We broke for lunch.
I decided to 'rest my eyes' and lay down on the gym floor.
On the hardwood, gym floor.
Fell asleep in t minus 3 seconds.
Didn't wake up for all the basketball bouncing, tweeny-bopper, Beiber-lovin' gigglers and the noise they were making.
Had to be physically shaken awake by my fellow coaches.
That and one of my little campers lost track of her basketball and it smoked me in the head. But that's neither here nor there.

My point?

Sleeping skills people. sleeping skills.

Anyway, the new development is this: I don't sleep that well anymore. Thats all. Nothing major. I'm just no longer a champ at it. It takes a little longer to fall asleep and sometimes, I wake up in the middle of the night. You know. Probably the way most people sleep. 

Now, this isn't necessarily the problem. I could take not sleeping as well as I have in the past. It was inevitable. I knew at some point, I'd have to say so long to the splendid sleep celebrations of my past.

The problem is this.

Who me?
Yes you.

It would be one thing if my sleeping abilities had simply lessened with time.

But it is quite another to live with this sultan of sleep. Every day, around every corner, he waits for me. Flaunting his sleep mastery.

But he's cute. So I'm gonna let is slide.

Lil rascal.

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