In Which Ella Becomes Unknowingly Sleep Deprived

When I woke up this morning, I thought that it was Monday. I got out my therapy binder,* did my Monday morning routine, and got ready to go to Clara’s. In the car, I said something about it being Monday, and my mom gently corrected me.

That’s strange, I thought, It really does feel like the beginning of the week. Why am I so puzzled?

The whole time I was at Clara’s, I found myself getting really bewildered about what time it was. It just felt a whole lot later than what the clocks were telling me, which was weird because the exact opposite always happens when I’m having fun.

Ever since I’ve gotten home from Clara’s my confusion has only increased, and I’ve also become rather exhausted. For the longest time, I couldn’t figure out why it was going on. I’m normally very good with dates, times, and putting together coherent thoughts, and I definetly wasn’t on any medication that would have messed with my cognitions.

And then I suddenly remembered that I had decided that it would be a really good idea to stay up until five thirty in the morning watching TED Talks, reading articles about how new social media is changing just about everything, and searching for the best news sources on the riots in London. This coupled with a similar decision involving two memoirs and Ze Frank the previous night, clearly was the root of my problem.

I think I read somewhere once that sleeping improves mental functioning, but it could be a lie. I mean, look at how well I’m doing with four hours of sleep a night! I can sleep when I’m dead–I’ve got so many fascinating things to do in the meantime!

I’m funny.

Ss much as I want to stay up until all hours reading the Guardian’s coverage of the London riots, I’m going to go to bed before eleven. It seems like the right choice.

*Filled with the ridiculous handouts I sometimes get given with acronyms like DEAR MAN GIVE FAST. Because apparently odd and annoying phrases work better than writing out the actual skills to improve interpersonal effectiveness. I’m just stuck with weird mental images of writing letters and passing off batons in races.

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