Oh, happy day! Oh, cursed night!

People are taken aback sometimes when I tell them a simple truth about me: I don't like sleep.

That's right. I'm not a huge fan of sleep.

Nothing happens when you sleep.

(Don't talk to me about dreams. My latest campaign to develop my dream-life a few weeks and months ago was another failure. As always, sleep for me is a triptych: lie down and close your eyes, blackness, open your eyes and stumble around.)

You can't do anything when you sleep.

People can drop anvils on your head when you sleep.

And, as is often the case with me, you can miss work when you sleep.

You've heard it all before, I'm sure. "I know I set my alarm."

Well, I know I set my alarm and left my cellphone on. But here I sit, a man in shame.

(Well, no, not really shame, since I already help the boss out so much and, in point of fact, the only reason a sub was needed is because she took the day off!)

So here I sit in groggy shame.

Apparently where I set my phone in my room can entirely cut off its signal, and I guess this afternoon I found one of those sweet spots.

In my beeline to the office, I was mocked by a steady stream of missed text messages and phone calls, all rushing into my pocket now that the gates of digital Hades had been wrenched open.

Now I lay me down to sleep.
I pray the Lord my soul to keep.
If I die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.

I prayed that prayer many nights with my mom as a child. It seems, however, I need a revised edition pleading with the Lord my soul to wake.

It just goes to show you: don't go to sleep unless you're prepared to die.

(Okay, well, no that doesn't really follow, but I'm a bereaved man, so you have to nod and agree with a thoughtful frown.)

Speaking of death and missing things, enjoy this clip from Curb Your Enthusiasm.