There was a song on the radio this morning by Morrissey called, “Spent The Day in Bed,” that made me smile. I had just finished my morning run on another dismal, gray day, and thought about that special place that’s hard to get out of each day. It’s not so much that I don’t want to face the day; it’s the warmth and comfort of being there. I thought that by the time I got to be 66 years old that I’d surely be an early riser. Instead, I truly could spend the whole day in bed.

When I was a teenager, noon was too early to get up, and it wasn’t because I was out late. I enjoyed waking up and knowing that I had an extra hour or more to sleep. I’ve tried to rationalize that how much sleep you get doesn’t matter; eight hours can go by just as quickly as one hour. What would irritate most people, by waking up every couple of hours, is actually uplifting for me, since I have little trouble getting back to sleep. Every time I wake up and look at the clock, I find comfort in knowing that I have at least another hour to sleep. I realize that it’s a head game and that longer periods of sleep are certainly more beneficial, but it works for me.

Getting out of bed is always tough, whether it’s after a long night’s sleep or simply a short nap, but getting back in is the reward. One of the great benefits of retirement, is not having to set an alarm. However, my wife is still working, so out of respect, I set a vibrating alarm on my Apple Watch for 6 a.m. each weekday, so I can run while she gets ready for work. In my working days, when the bedside alarm went off in the morning, I would never hit the “sleep” switch, since it would only prolong the agony of getting out of bed. I had already been up several times during the night, and experienced the pleasure of getting back under the warm covers and  surrounding myself with soft pillows. Instead, I would “trick” my mind into knowing that in “just a few hours” I would quickly return after earning the right to dream again. Immediately, Frankie our cat then claims my spot on the bed, keeping it warm until my return.

I feel guilty now if I sleep past 7:30 a.m., because the dogs need to go outside to do their business. Fortunately, they are both good sleepers and able to manage their bladders for at least eight hours. I wish I had that kind of bladder control, but old age means prostrate issues, and I get up at least four times every night. To me, that equates to four opportunities to go back to sleep, and that makes me happy. It’s certainly better than “getting madder over an angry bladder.” The more Diet Coke I drink to keep me from napping in the afternoon, the more trips to the bathroom I make each night. The solution is simple: stay away from caffeine and sleep longer.  Yet, I’m sure I’ll have a Diet Coke after today’s noon leadership meeting. Buffalo Wild Wings does not serve Coca-Cola products, so I’ll drink Coors Light. The beer will make me sleepy and the Diet Coke will counter the effects, yet more liquids in leads to more liquids out.

The gist of the Morrissey song is that spending the day in bed is the best way to ignore all the bad news in the world. As a result, he’s “very happy he did.” To me, sleep is not avoidance or laziness, but rather “sweet dreams.” Plus, there’s other enjoyable things you can do in bed other than just sleep, if you know what I mean? I don’t have a “Sleep Number,” but I know that the “number” of times that I get up, knowing that I can go back to sleep, is all that matters.