First Aid Sleep

Another day, another dollar, another hustle....

The sun has finally decided to show. It's punching me right in the eyes right now, as I commute to work. The taste of old-fashioned donuts and diet mountain dew lace my breath, and all I can think about is the crappy spring mattress that they have in the First Aid room at my work.

Last week was a gray haze as I couldn't find a rhythm of sleep. I was consistently getting 4-6 hours of sleep. Because of this, work was a difficult to say the least. It has percolated into a fit of foggy depression, and I knew that it was simply because of the lack of sleep. I set out to find a place to take a nap. I couldn't sleep on the floor in my office because of a few reasons. First, people would come knocking . Even when I lock my door, and close the blinds, people don't get a hint very well. Secondly, I actually wanted a dark room with quiet. My office has a large window overlooking at the mountains, that lets the sun in even though the blinds are shut.

After a recommendation from my buddy at work, I found my way to the First Aid room on the third floor. They have a first aid room on each floor of the people (for a total of 3). When you approach the door, there is a sign a la an outhouse that says "Vacant" or "Occupied". You can't help think of people having a passionate love affair when it says OCCUPIED in big red letters. Upon opening the door, I found a a bed, telephone, and a stack of what appeared to be sheets. Next to the stack of sheets was a sign on the wall that said, "If you are sick, please call this number. We need to keep track of usage of this room." I don't that's really necessary especially considering that when I'm sick, I usually want to be left alone. After observing the sign, I moved onto the bed. Covered in sheets from a 1980s hotel, I noticed that the pile of sheets weren't sheets at all. They were disposable pillow covers. I guess they want to let you lay your head on the pillow and drool to your sick hearts content.

Closing the door gave myself complete freedom. The room was pitch black and nary a sound. The only thing I could hear was the corporate hum of electricity in the rafters above the ceiling. I set my cell phone's alarm for an hour in the future, and got the best sleep I had all week.