While some see Butler as the concentrated epitome of stress culture, I, a literal resident of the library, view it as a respite of peace and quiet. When the visiting couple across from you in the cafe is loudly arguing about where they want to eat next in the *Big Apple*, when you can hear your hall neighbors fooling around – on a Tuesday morning no less, Butler is the one place where you can pop a squat and spend some quality time with just you and the Aeneid.

Horrible people, just stop breathing.

At least, that’s what you thought, until one day you discover not one, but two whole grown men napping and worse – snoring – in the chairs next to you.

I get the occasional, brief closing of eyes in Butler; it happens. Sometimes you’re flipping to the 201st page and the wave just hits. But if you have made a conscious thought and decision to take a hearty and full-fledged nap, especially with snoring involved, consider relocating to your dorm room or even a lounge of any of our many spacious non-library buildings.

While the pen drop and the water bottle knocking over are fine, the snoring is where I draw the line. Not only does it disturb the general study environment, but if I can hear you heaving each breath from a quite distant 40 feet away as you sleep, I’m concerned about your own health, as well.

Every building on campus has a very clearly designated purpose, shaped by architects, administration, and student culture alike. Carman is for sleeping and…NSOP. Hamilton is for academic meetings and that weirdly difficult four-story hike you do to your sixth-floor history class every Tuesday and Thursday. John Jay is for unseasoned college meals that by principle always include beans. Butler is for studying, not sleeping.