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So, night before last weeks of sleeping very, very badly resulted in my not getting any sleep at all.
As it happened, yesterday morning I had an appointment with my psychiatrist, who gave me a discourse on the topic of natural human sleeping cycles - strict instructions not to sleep during the day, and then to get to getting up at the same time in the morning, regardless of how much sleep I've had, and go to bed when tired, and, where possible, get some good solid sunlight after getting up to kick my body clock into gear.
I dutifully stayed awake until after dark, then went to bed at 7pm.
And overslept after my alarm went off, but not by *too* much, and I did need sleep pretty badly. To the extent that, for example, last night as I was getting changed for bed, I had to sing a Winnie-the-Pooh-style putting-on-pyjamas song to get from one end of the process to the other.
(Winnie-ther-Pooh, in the books, sings little songs about what he's doing, when he's doing something. Early in my childhood, this imprinted on my brain, and combined with instinctual development of ADHD coping mechanisms such that, when I'm having trouble with a process, I sing little songs to myself in my head about it, so I remember all the steps. Last night, I was singing out loud, because I couldn't remember what had come before in the song unless I heard it.)
Chas and Dean didn't seem to mind too much, because it was getting me through going-to-bed processes while remaining cheerful and not-crashed-depressively or anything. (On the grounds that I was basically drunk on exhaustion, they put me to bed, as friends do, when friends are wasted.)
Everyone wins if Sami goes to bed at 7pm when she's exhausted instead of staying up and crashing emotionally like a METEOR HITTING AN OCEAN LINER.
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