Ah, precious sleep. The one luxury that poor people and rich can enjoy alike.
I take sleep very seriously. I can honestly call myself an expert sleeper. I'm passionate about this hobby, and practice napping as often as possible.
However, when I wake up, I'm up and moving about ten minutes before any sign of soul or humanity is present. All id, no superego. From 7 till 7:10 a.m., I can be an absolute monster. Worst part is, most of the time I don't even remember what awful thing I said or did during those ten minutes. I am very lucky my parents never held what happened in my sleep-addled state against me. Except in a haha-making-fun-of-you-for-the-next-decade kind of way.
For example, the time My Sister the Lawyer decided, many year ago, it would be a good idea to wake me up by jumping on me? I really don't recall all the creative and loud obsenities I supposedly used, and I definitely don't remember throttling her.
But My Sister the Lawyer sure remembers.
(True: The Squeeze doesn't even bother trying to talk to me first thing in the morning. He's smart like that.)
Mya needs a hand. Really. There's only 5.6 degrees of separation between people now, what with Facebook, and Twitter and everything, so every person that posts a link to her increases her chances of getting the surgery she needs exponentially.