It is not an overrated thing, this thing you call sleep.
Dude. Shakespeare KNEW what he was talking about. Yea verily.
Get enough of it (quality and quantity are both good), and you are a Happy Queen - (even though you are, admittedly, freshly queened through despicable acts of which, herein, we shall not mention. Right? Right...)
See? "La La La..." happy, smiling, neatly groomed... "I got a purty dress and all I had to do was arrange the bloody demise of some old dude..."
Miss out on a few bouts of zzzs, however, and lo:
"Hell is murky..." weep, moan, in need of hair-brushing, "why haven't moist towelettes been invented, yet? My hands are sticky... out damned spot..."
Sad Creepy Sleepwashing Queen.
Oh - by the way - these are pictures from my most recent foray treading the boards, Tempest Theatre Group's production of MACBETH. (Of which, Adrienne Kress has some amusing observations of the backstage shenanigans, thereof...)
I repeat: these are NOT - necessarily - my recent real-life experiences. Heh heh... seriously.
But my point stands.
Sleep is NOT to be overrated.
I know this, because I recently acquired the most AWESOME uber-high thread-count bed linens. Nothing ravelled about these suckers.
And - whaddaya know. Last night, I slept like some kinda crazy sleeping machine. For probably the first time in MONTHS.
This could, of course, also have to do with the fact that - as we all know from reading my previous post - last week, I finished emptying all of the story bits for Wondrous Strange out of the old cerebellum and handed them over to my AWESOME editor in some kind of fabulous document that makes a massive amount of thrilling, adventure-laden, romantic, wildly funny yet poignant, perfect sense. (Heh... possibly remnants of sleep deprivation, that...)
Ah, well. I guess I'll know whether or not this is even close to being the case, when she calls me up in the middle of the night because SHE can't sleep!
And I will laugh wildly and tell her to go get nice sheets!