A Strongly-Worded Letter to the Supervisor of Sleep

Dear Noctus,

Good Morning, Sunshine! It’s 5 a.m. on a Sunday, and I do not have to work.

What are you thinking?

You have abandoned me in a time of need, and I thought we had already hashed out a perfectly acceptable arrangement years earlier. Perhaps it is time to review our contract?

Remember the early years, when our association was new, and I railed against your authority at nap time? How I protested your appearance with tears, screaming myself red-faced well into the afternoon until succumbing to your persistent pressure? Remember how we compromised, and I spent much of my teenaged and college time in a complicit coma that endangered my permanent school record? I thought we had a deal. I would catch up in the afternoons when my baby was small and had bad sleep-timing, and you would allow me the luxury of sleeping in on days I had a chance?

Where is your honor?

Even now, when my baby is a teenager making his own contract with you (he is an obedient fellow who has a noon-time nap scheduled), you renege on your agreement with me, the one who signed him up for your program. To this day, I cannot donate blood in a semi-recumbent position because of the strictures of your agreement (I fall asleep).

You have failed me, Noctus.

See you at 11 p.m. I hope I can count on your cooperation. I have a busy day tomorrow.

Regards,

Pan Narrans