It is Thomas Edison’s fault that I don’t get enough sleep. You know that nifty invention, the light bulb, which blazes a brilliantly bright light in some rooms of my home, and in others, the bulbs set off a soft warm glow. And regardless of the degree of brightness created, the lights are kept on well after the sun goes down, and I don’t get the ten hours of sleep that my body craves.
I guess there are many others that could get some blame as well, like the individuals who brought about television and then the 24 hours of programming, on hundreds of stations, that now go with said piece of electronic genius.
You would think with the invention of time savors like the clothes washer, dryer, having refrigeration, a gas stove and oven and assorted electrical appliances to aid in food preparation and preservation that I should have ample time to get some Zs. Time should also be provided by the aide of the dishwasher, vacuum cleaner, swiffer mop, and more that save so much time in cleaning.
And yet, I average about 7 hours of occasionally disrupted dozing on weekdays. If I am especially fortunate I will get nearer to eight hours sleeping in on a weekend morning. Oh, Mr. Edison, what have you done to me? And what is my sleep number?