images22.jpgimages7.jpg I’m obsessed with sleep. I mean, I enjoy sleeping, but I also like reading about it and thinking about it. Dunno. Something about the subject of sleep feels very meta.

Stuck in the office, bleary-eyed and sleep-deprived, I troll the Net for stories. Like I’ll go on the National Sleep Foundation’s web site, or if the Times runs some obscure piece quoting facts about the different levels of sleep or the REM phase and all that jazz, I sort of zone out and get into it. Sleep is supposedly good for your muscle aches, it’s excellent for depression, stress, losing weight, your memory. Your skin and your bloodshot eyes look much more fabulous after like eight hours of snooze. But for someone who professes great interest in the subject, I actually know very little. It’s possible I don’t retain any of the info I read because I need more sleep.

What about history of sleep? How do high school students do it? I remember not starting homework till 11 at night my junior year. What an idiot.

Here’s a piece called “Lack of Sleep Makes Kids Fatter” in Monday’s Times. The title alone is hilarious. Or maybe I think that only because I’ve been editing an article on lipids all day.

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