There has to be something cosmically wrong when the tone of my daydreaming fantasies shifts from "rrrrrr, give me some of that" to "mmmm, a nap..."
I look at my bed longingly, the magic chair with a fondness usually reserved for loved ones, and am prone to Goldilocks moments where I imagine falling asleep at various friends' houses: "This couch is too big. This couch is too soft. This couch is juuuuust riiiiight."
Lusting for sleep.
Finally, a good excuse for the drool mark on my shirt.