Do you glance at your clock/watch/phone when you’re out to dinner and calculate that if it’s 9:30 now and you’re on the main course, then you should be away by 10:30, which means home by 11, bed by 11:20 and lights off at 11:30 (as long as you don’t decide to read the entire internet before you attempt to drift off), which means (if your insomnia cocktails works) you’ll make it through to 6:30 and that’s OK. It’s not a vulgarity of sleep. It doesn’t really credit your account (can you bank sleep, anyway?), but it’s not a disaster.
Equally, it’s now 2pm on Saturday. There is a window of 45 minutes before the doorbell rings, chore beckons, tea date looms. Is that enough time to run into bedroom, draw curtains, insert ear plugs, apply eye mask and close eyes? Ten minutes to fall asleep which means half an hour. That’s a good result. X = tired – siesta + wine tonight – yoga in the morning x π. Does that leave me on top? Oh God.
This is the crazy world of sleep maths. Forget the mysteries of the f***ing universe, sleep maths is the constant calculations ticking through my brain. Let’s put Brian Cox on it and see if he can do something squiggly to time (is it linear? Is it quantum? I am far, far, far too tired to care) to make the computations more straight-forward. Let’s chuck jet lag into the equation to really mess with him.
Now, I’m not Einstein, but I know that if that cappuccino isn’t really decaffeinated (sometimes they lie, you know) then I won’t sleep till a week next Tuesday.