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Bedsheets.

Bedsheets.

“So when are you coming back?”
“Thursday morning.” I answered.
“But you’re usually done by Wednesday evening, right?”
I made a slightly out-of-tune “mm-hmm” in reply. My throat had not been treating me very well.
“I could come and pick you up by then. Just so you could get a good night’s sleep at home.”

Hearing that from my father, it warmed me all over. He does not like to come over during the evenings due to the traffic jams during rush hours, where office workers emerge from their workplaces and hop onto their cars – all usually occupied by only one – the driver, and no other extra passengers – for their long (and stressful) drive home.

Truth is, I am a light sleeper when I am in uni. I jolt awake at the slightest sounds, which is usually made by my roommates who work well past midnight, with the annoying, clickety-clack sounds of the keyboard, the sudden heavy jerks of the chair against the floor, the creakings of the bed as one of them climbs on and off it, their shared laughter and soft whispers that seemed to be magnified many times anyway. That means coming awake more than twice in a night, as I half-heartedly attempt to go back to sleep after glancing at the clock. The hands of the clock are more often that not pointed at the numbers four, five, and twelve. And when I am unlucky, the buzzing of a few mosquitoes are enough to fuel the situation even more. All this, while the lights are still on, of course.

In fact, my bedtime has already been extended an hour here – because I see no point in going to bed so early, where I will only have trouble getting to sleep. That does not mean I get to wake up later, though.

Then there is the matter of the stuffy oven we call our ‘room’.

But am I complaining?

Not really. After all, the one with the problem here is me, not them.

Apparently, the moment their heads touched their pillows, they are whisked off to dreamland. No questions asked, no delays. The weather and noise hardly becomes a factor to them. Sandman hardly pays me a visit here; I wonder why.

I, on the other hand, toss and turn all over, taking more than the average seven minutes to fall asleep. Rarely have I fell asleep almost instantly. It was not that bad previously, but now I find it a task to get to bed – because I know I will not sleep fitfully.

It is a different case, however, when I am back at home. I think I would have pretty much repaid the sleep debts incurred in uni by sleeping in during the weekends. I am a firm believer that sleep is essential, after seeing a close friend reduced to going around with zombie-like features – complete with shaking hands, fainting spells, and memory loss – having not slept for more than three days.

I would not want to be that.

Details of this entry.Monday, March 14, 2005, filed under Blogger Archives.
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