As I lay in bed this morning, I was contemplating the fact that on weekends, I truly consider sleeping to be a legitimate hobby. This is not to say that I don’t sleep well during the week, but there’s just something about being awakened by the alarm clock that ruins a critical part of the joy of sleeping.
My perfect sleeping event contains the following elements:
250+ count 100% cotton sheets, freshly dried on the clothesline. There is nothing in this world that smells the same as sheets dried on the line.
Air conditioner running (for that soothing white noise hum), which allows me to burrow under a down-filled duvet, even through the hottest days of summer.
Absolutely no alarm clock, and no obligations that require getting out of bed at any time other than when I am fully done sleeping.
There is something positively sublime to awaken slowly and realize that you are absolutely, utterly, perfectly comfortable. The sheets are soft, the bed is warm, your body is positioned such that there is no discernible pressure on any particular point…you’re just immersed in blissful bed-loving perfection, and to get up or move would be anathema to the very act of rest. At this point, it is best to just indulge yourself and allow your mind to sink back into slumber for another hour or so. Bonus points are awarded if you’re able to recapture the thread of the dream you were dreaming when you realized you were broaching consciousness.
Oh…and a cat-free environment helps, but considering the vocal exercises my cat does outside of any closed door, I occasionally have to allow the perfect slumber to be slightly marred by a 7 pound furry beast who wants to sleep right where my elbow is.
I too agree that on a Sat or Sun, there is nothing better than being in my wonderful bed with nothing to wake me. While on occasion I can wake feeling lazy and as though I wasted a day away, it is still oh so refreshing. I work 12 hour rotating shifts so when combined with my hour drive each way, there is not much time left for sleeping. Therefore, I have found that when I am off and especially on weekdays when the rest of the world is working, I can sleep for 12-16 hour stretches. Ahhhhh, the joy of rest! Did I mention that I have the worlds best bed and that I have come to know my feather bed as my best friend (besides my teddy bear of course!)
Yes, sleep is an art form. My mind is boggled by people who like to spring up from bed the moment they are awake (as does my own Dearly Beloved). I like to plan extra time when I go to bed, and when I wake up, to simply delight in the joy of being in bed. I love the whole ritual – putting on the seasonally appropriate jammies, settling down with Big Ted (the bear), fluffing the pillows, reading a chapter in a good book, arranging the covers in just the right way so my feet can stick out, if needed (I hate the dreaded Hot Feet when I sleep) … I feel blissfully tired just writing this.
I’m still baffled by people who wear socks to bed. Socks, for god’s sake. I take my socks off when I get home from work before I take off my bleedin’ bra. Socks are evil.
Gosh, yes. Why would anyone wear socks to bed, when it not only increases the risk of the dreaded Hot Feet, but also prevents your feet from experiencing the joys of being pampered by the smooth, cool, 200+ thread count sheets? There’s nothing like a little barefoot rub on cotton sheets to erase all the hassles of your day.
Well that does it. I’ve found a group that I actually belong in! I love sleeping. There’s nothing better than being in my soft pajamas and crawling under the covers. Bonus points if the sheets have just been washed.
I usually don’t sleep very late on the weekends. Since Mr. Grace will sleep late if I let him, I watch tv or read until I get tired again. Then somewhere around 11:00 a.m., I’ll go take a nap.
Hmmmm…I think napping is a whole other subset of sleeping. I have a very comfy sofa that’s just perfect for napping…I often find it impossible to recline on the sofa (such as I would if I were trying to read) because it inevitably leads to napping. I cannot, however, nap in my bed. The bed is for nighttime all-out sleeping only. Weird, huh?
I have a friend who has extremely dry feet and she rubs lotion on them and wears socks to bed. Just the thought makes me feel itchy and hot. I hate to have my feet covered and I almost always sleep with one leg sticking out of the covers.
No socks. But I must have feet covered. I do not have Hot Feet, I have Ice Feet. (My body reminds me its time to get into bed by becoming endothermic.)
Mmm…jammies… I like oversized men’s flanel pj bottoms (ugly plaid. Blindingly ugly plaid.) and a tank top, personally. (pout my favorite pair is getting too big for me since I started working out. fine reward for getting in shape!)
Socks are great. In the winter, there’s nothing like warm socks right out of the dryer. In the summer, I love coming home and taking my socks off; it feels like my body temp just drops ten degrees. We have hard wood floors, and I can slide all around, skid around the corners. It’s great! Socks rock!
I envy all of you. I LOVE to sleep, but I don’t seem to be able to do it very well anymore. I wake up, and I think…“oh, just roll over and maybe…just maybe this once you can fall asleep again.”
Socks have their place. Especially striped, awful, ugly socks.
Sleep, however, IS wonderful. There is nothing so nice as being able to be in bed until I’m ready to not be, curled up with the apropriate stuffed animal. And that happy drowsy just woke up feeling…mmm…
