So I slept, by a strange turn of fortune, in my friend M's room. M needed some cheering up, so my quiet little evening with nail polish and Downton Abbey turned into a sleepover. I don't mind at all--sitcoms and frosting were involved. A very nefarious duo.
Her and the frosting, I mean.
Anywho, I slept on her roommate N's bed (another good friend of mine). She was away, but her bed was so prettily made that I just felt wrong displacing all those gorgeous, whimsical pillows. So I used an old plaid fleece blanket and curled up on a mass of oddly-shaped pillows. So it was kind of a crappy night's sleep, what with waking up and forgetting what bed I was in several times. (Hey, college milestone!) The next day I went to lunch and did miscellaneous chores and such until about two. By then, I was exhausted.
And here's the crux...
In college, you don't sleep naked. I mean, if there's a fire drill at 2 am you'll want clothes. Besides, with that whole recently-awakened amnesia phenomenon I previously described, you (read I) could end up strolling about in the painfully bright hallway in your birthday suit. In Arizona, it was insanely hot in the summer and I had no AC in my west-facing room, so I slept in my skivvies quite a bit. And it's nice! Extra-relaxing.
It was stuffy, I was tired, and my roommate was working until late. So I thought, "Eh, why not!" So I locked the door (just to be safe), stripped to my comfiest bra and panties, crawled into bed, and promptly conked out until about 6.
During my lovely Sunday nap, I heard this weird, light tapping. I ignored it, kept sleeping.
Tap tap tap.
Is someone knocking? Nah, too quiet. Zzzzzz...
Tap tap tap.
Zzzzzz...
Then I hear the jingle of keys.
I sit straight up, pulling the covers to my neck like some scandalized Victorian virgin. I called for my roommate nervously.
I hear the jingling stop, and then a man's falsetto saying, "Yeeeeeees?" It's my roommate's boyfriend. Apparently she gave him her keys... for some unknown reason. I love them both, but he's now our third roommate. I panic. They can't know that this is my semi-naked naptime... That sounded dirty, but I swear it wasn't. Honest to blog.
"Wait!" I yelp, leaping out of bed. "Um, need to shower. Getting ready. To, um... to shower! Just wait. No clothes."I grab a robe and grab my shower caddy, to continue the illusion. Hurridly I unlock the door and run smack dab into a crowd of miscellaneous men.
He brought a posee. Fantastic. He said, "Hey." I said, "Hey." Then they turned and left with little comment on why I had been semi-nude while they'd been knocking for five minutes.
And I still have no idea what the hell he was doing trying to break in during my naptime.
Long story short, I was thoroughly rattled and henceforth did nothing but take the aforementioned shower/make mac and cheese/clean.
Did that story really relate to my productivity? Nope. And therein lies the paradox.
Happy Monday!
