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Insult to injury.
Dec. 5th, 2006 03:57 pmI think I got three hours of sleep last night. And they were not restful. You know how fevers bring frantic thought cycles, or dreams about work that never ends? It's the heat. A week ago, the heater in our room was fixed, and I think the repairman reset the thermostat for the entire dorm, because it's been absolutely swampy. I sleep on the top bunk, about three feet from the ceiling, and the bed is pushed up against the wall with the heater (and also the window. The rooms are shaped wonky). This means that I can throw the window wide open to the arctic temperatures outside at night, and not feel anything except a comfortable medium, while lower altitudes of the room will be frigid.
This is unfair to a bottom-bunk roomate, who will subsequently freeze to death. So, reasonably, she closes the window except for a crack. Black-out curtains. It must have reached 90F where I was sleeping. And dry. Fucking Spokane. Then there was my nose, which has once more betrayed me. My bearable cold, rather than succumbing to my t-cell/white bloodcell team of crimefighters, mutated into a hideous, draining... sinus infection. Mrrr. It's gross, and I hate it.
So I couldn't breathe. And top bunk means no nearby kleenex, no readily available glass of water. And the sweltering, artificial heat that swept across the savannah of my bedding. But it gets worse. This is college, and the boys upstairs decided to get drunk on a Monday night and hold wrestling matches in the room directly above mine. Boys are loud creatures. I'm not sure if they've realized. But around half past midnight, I creaked down from bed, creaked up the stairs, and made a piteous plea for them to stop shaking the floorboards and yelling obscenities. I did that as politely as I could.
Then I creaked back into bed. But what awaited me there? No relief, only an endless rampage of showtunes playing jauntily in my brain. Over. And over. For hours.
It was like the gods were laughing at me.
On the bright side, I thought I had no cold meds, but miraculously found a box of Nyquil/Dayquil pills on my dresser. Tonight will be better, and hopefully I won't be inflicting this level of whine on you tomorrow.
This is unfair to a bottom-bunk roomate, who will subsequently freeze to death. So, reasonably, she closes the window except for a crack. Black-out curtains. It must have reached 90F where I was sleeping. And dry. Fucking Spokane. Then there was my nose, which has once more betrayed me. My bearable cold, rather than succumbing to my t-cell/white bloodcell team of crimefighters, mutated into a hideous, draining... sinus infection. Mrrr. It's gross, and I hate it.
So I couldn't breathe. And top bunk means no nearby kleenex, no readily available glass of water. And the sweltering, artificial heat that swept across the savannah of my bedding. But it gets worse. This is college, and the boys upstairs decided to get drunk on a Monday night and hold wrestling matches in the room directly above mine. Boys are loud creatures. I'm not sure if they've realized. But around half past midnight, I creaked down from bed, creaked up the stairs, and made a piteous plea for them to stop shaking the floorboards and yelling obscenities. I did that as politely as I could.
Then I creaked back into bed. But what awaited me there? No relief, only an endless rampage of showtunes playing jauntily in my brain. Over. And over. For hours.
It was like the gods were laughing at me.
On the bright side, I thought I had no cold meds, but miraculously found a box of Nyquil/Dayquil pills on my dresser. Tonight will be better, and hopefully I won't be inflicting this level of whine on you tomorrow.
