You've all seen the commercial for the fancy bed that adjusts to your particular comfort level so you can have a good nights sleep. A little push here, a little touch there, software driven hardcore “have it your way”, and before you know it your body is in perfect relaxation mode amongst the virtual gardens of Shangri La. You drift off to sleep easily and happily, or that's how it's supposed to work. Now everyone's asking each other, “what is your sleep number?” Well, my sleep number happens to be 30.
I lay in bed and I look at the clock, “excellent if I go to sleep now I get seven hours”, the thought passes. We have all done the “hop in bed little too late”, “watched one too many episodes”, “drank one too many coffees.” Then I see six hours left on the clock, “if you go to sleep right now you will get six hours”, I say out loud but quietly. I start thinking about all that stuff at work, the old crazy lady in shipping, wondering how much ozone she destroys as she does her hair, you know, important stuff.
Then I roll over look at the clock, “five hours… five hours of sleep if I go to sleep right now.” I start thinking about all the appointments I have this week, taking the kids to sports, going to school to visit their teachers, standing in that line only to have the teacher tell you little Jimmy or Julie's doing just fine. I already knew they were doing fine, not sure why I needed to stand in line for two hours. The lists, the to-do list, task list, checklist, packing lists, too many lists. I look over at the clock, four hours to sleep. “If I go to sleep right now I get four hours of sleep… and check that off my list.”
I punch my pillow a few times because it is obvious it is at fault. I start thinking about chores around the house. Everything I need to fix, light bulbs are out, mouse traps need to be checked and replaced, which leads me into the engineering of mouse traps and why they’re made the way they are. Then I remember I live in a world where crazy folks protest the supermarket for buying and selling mousetraps as they're not humane, neither is plague by the way, very inhumane, a whole section of my high school history book dedicated to it. Looking at the clock, “’I’ve got to go to sleep, got two hours to sleep if I go to sleep right now. “
So I force myself to think of something happy, maybe a nice jeep ride up through the hills bouncing around having fun in the forest. Then I imagine that I hit a rock or funky object, and apart on my Jeep breaks. This is when we get to my sleep number, I look at the clock all the while realizing I can’t afford to fix my Jeep and I can’t sleep on this stupid a$$ bed, I don’t have this problem while camping with my hammock. I only have 30 minutes to sleep, so I give up. I will just get up and go to work. 30, that's my sleep number.