An ethnography of sleeping on a couch during break.

My bed, my bed,

With mattress topper hard as a rock,

Requires readjusting every 24 to 48 hours,

How I have missed you.

My aching back has never craved your terrible, terrible presence

More so than winter break.

It’s true—I have slept on a couch for the past three weeks!

With one pillow! A thin sheet! The horror!

No more discounted bed set from the Bed Bath and Beyond in Columbus Circle, no,

For this break, I used a blanket that had an airline logo on it.

It smelled of plastic wrap.

For weeks, I was awoken by my dog sticking her nose in my face (a welcome sight).

She was my new roommate, found through the random roommate system,

We have the same living habits, because she demands to be fed at 8 am sharp.

And I am to feed her.

We go on hot girl walks,

Five times a day.

I toss and turn all night.

I long for the shitty heat of the dorms,

Like a furnace, or a harsh desert wind.

Instead, the cold winds have frozen the pipes,

And the harsh ocean waves beat against the shore,

And still, the hot girl walks commence.

I wear pajama pants I sewed in high school.

They are two slightly different shades of red,

And only reach my calves.

My bed, my bed,

How I miss your ultra-warm embrace.

Your warm lighting,

Your access to a communal bathroom,

The long naps I could take.

But alas,

I am stuck,

On Long Island.

Honk Shoo Mimimimimi via Bwog Archives