Who needs eight hours of sleep, really?

It’s three o’clock in the morning. Do you know where your children (or suitemates, unless you’ve gotten a head start on procreation) are?

They’re sitting in front of the computers, tumbling and tweeting starting to watch Mad Men from the very beginning of the series. They may or may not have failed to begin their homework, which they know is due in a few hours.

Tomorrow, they’ll chug four gallons of coffee and do it all over again.

It’s a rough life, a deadly cycle. It leads to dramatic complaining sessions in which the sleep-deprived victim says things like, “Can’t it be summer already?” and, “Thank god it’s almost the weekend. I can’t wait to stay up all night and not feel guilty about it, since I’ll be sleeping until noon and barely catching brunch.”

When the alternative is turning in just when the internets get good, who’d opt to do anything but allow creeping online to turn into a major distraction? Being ignorant about Miley Cyrus’ almost engagement is social suicide. Forgetting the first twenty lines of The Canterbury Tales? Not so much.

Published at See Gauge Blog on April 11, 2012.

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