"In vacant or in pensive mood..." I am: Bekah; 24; Law Student / Favorite Things: Carbs (so there!), Johnny Damon, Smiling at babies, Grilled cheese, Comfortable silence / Favorite Supreme Court Justice: Brennan / Favorite Wilson: Owen by an inch / Today's Special: Song: Elliott Smith, "Bled White"; Quote: "You know, there's like a butt-load of gangs at this school. This one gang kept wanting me to join because I'm pretty good with a bowstaff." Please love me: mmbekah@yahoo.com


February 2003 March 2003 April 2003 May 2003 June 2003 July 2003 August 2003 September 2003 October 2003 November 2003 December 2003 January 2004 February 2004 March 2004 April 2004 May 2004 June 2004 July 2004 August 2004 September 2004 October 2004 November 2004 December 2004 January 2005 September 2005

 
I think I have an unhealthy relationship with my futon.

Before my futon and I got together, I enjoyed sleeping as much as the next person. In high school I got very good at sleeping late, sometimes well into the early afternoon. Coming from a family of morning people, (not "Sounds like somebody's got a case of the Mondays!" morning people, but close), I was made to feel that 12-16 hours of sleep a night was somehow abnormal. My theory was, if I'm up in time for dinner, who's really getting hurt? In college I started cutting down on the hours and perfected the art of the power nap. I must confess that my friend Maureen taught me everything I know on the subject. Her method is simple: drink a cup of coffee immediately before your nap, then set your alarm for 20-25 minutes later, right when the caffeine hits. Boom! Rise and shine. It's a beautiful thing. My dad once told me that I was the only person he knew who could get out of a bad mood by taking a nap. And it's true. Sleep makes me so happy that after a nap I forget about whatever it was that was bothering me. These days, what with my mandatory early-morning study dates at the coffeehouse, I very rarely sleep late. The guilty law student feeling of "I should be doing something productive right now" always wins out. And unfortunately the nap isn't really an option anymore either. I have more to do, and I no longer go to class four steps away from my bed. But the 6-7 hours of sleep I get every night are more blissful than ever before. The reason? My futon.

Futons have come a long way in the past decade. They used to be stiff and obtrusive. Not so anymore. My futon is more comfortable than any bed I have ever slept in. It is soft, but not too soft. It has a foam core. It calls to me when I'm in class. When I go out for the night, I gaze at it longingly, thinking about how long it will be before I can go to sleep. At bars or social gatherings, my thoughts return to my futon. I think about how my time could be much better spent with my futon. Unlike the bar-goers and their empty chatter, my futon doesn't need to speak. We communicate on a much deeper level. On the rare occasion that I can't fall asleep right away, I lie in my futon and think about how lucky I am to be consciously appreciating the beautiful qualities of my futon longer than usual. I take those opportunities to thank God for blessing me with insomnia. I often set my alarm early, just so I can have the satisfaction of returning to my futon for another hour. My futon is warm in the winter and cool in the summer, and it is always here for me. I am starting to think that I will never achieve this kind of companionship and mutual understanding with anyone other than my futon.

This dependency is beginning to trouble me. When you start to devalue human contact because of your relationship with a piece of furniture, I think it's generally understood that the time has come to seek help. This is a big step for me. There's clearly only one thing to do. I'll sleep on it.
posted by Bekah at 8:11 AM :: |