Day 22: Sex for Elephants

I live on the bottom floor of a two-story house. I live with one other girl and three guys (all of whom I do not know, except for the general, "I live with you" sort of knowing). The nice thing about my room is I don't have to share a bathroom. The bad thing about my room is I hear EVERYTHING from the ground floor including who goes in and out of the front door and my favorite, people going up and down the stairs. Each time someone uses the stairs it sounds like Hannibal invading Italy...seriously.

Anyway, last night I get to bed at 1200am after a hard night's work of editing my podcast. At 300am, people come in through the front door, go up the stairs, come down the stairs, rummage around in the kitchen, and retreat back up the stairs. This lasts for 15 mins (not that I'm keeping track). At around 330am, I hear a rhythmic squeaking of a bed above me (you see where I'm going with this?). Upon realizing what this is--I had in fact gone back to sleep--I say, "Oh, God!" and proceed to squeeze my ears. It stops. Perhaps a 30mins to 1hr later (it seemed longer because I couldn't get back to sleep) the bed starts squeaking again. I just think, "The Hell with it!" turn my radio on and get up to do stuff.

In punishment for ruining my sleep--and in turn, leaving me with 3 hours to last the rest of the day--I decided to do laundry at 6am.

Rest assured, if this happens tonight I will cut somebody because I have a job fair from 730am-500pm on Friday and I need to be 200% for that!

Sleep deprivedly yours,
~S