Read five pages of Jane Eyre. Fall asleep.
Seriously, it’s that easy.
I thought that I had invented said remedy for sleepless nights recently, but leafing through an old diary taught me otherwise.
“Going to go read a few pages of Jane Eyre and pass out,” I signed off the entry. From May of 2005.
Apparently I’ve been relying on 19th century British literature to get some shut eye for years.