Night and Day.

Being in grad school, I am conditioned to have two modes: on and off. For ten to twelve hours of the day, I'm on campus with the switch turned to 'on' but the second I stumble into my apartment in the evening, all bets are off. In fact, I find myself only capable of the basics, such as:

• Cooking, sort of. I can generally manage to pour myself a bowl of cereal, and if I'm feeling particularly cheeky I can punch in a few numbers into the microwave. This is why cooking on the weekends is vital, unless I want to have a 5-day date with Cheerios.
• Checking voicemail. I am, however, not capable of returning these messages.
• Occasional grunts.
• Lying horizontally, whether on my couch or bed or sometimes, in worst case scenarios, in the middle of my living room floor. Sitting and standing are completely and utterly out of the question.
• My apartment, for inexplicable reasons, does not allow dress attire and therefore I am usually in pajamas within 4.5 seconds of walking in the door. I am not, however, capable of putting away said dress attire which hangs out in a heap near the corner of my bedroom.

If On-Campus Laura ever met Off-Campus Laura, she'd probably be taken aback. Weren't you just running around like a crazy person a few hours ago? Where's the wit? Where are your pants? I haven't heard you say anything remotely intelligible since you got home.

Today's joie de vivre is what makes On-Campus Laura possible: the 8-hour night of sleep... expendable for some, but a requirement for me. I'm the person who gets really jazzed about going to sleep. Someone who, at 10 o'clock, is hurriedly brushing her teeth so she can jump into bed. I have the gift of a pillowtop mattress and the ability to fall asleep in under three minutes; I take neither for granted.

I tip my hat at those who can get four hours of sleep and still say coherent things the next day- I am in awe of your existence. Still, I get a little too much joy from a good night's sleep to trade places with you. Bonne Nuit.