Reason 468 why Becky is fantastic.

The past two weeks have left me high and dry on the whole - getting 8 hours of sleep per night suggestion. Ive been averaging maybe 2-3 non-consecutive hours a night. In lieu of my new found insomnia, I have resorted to drinking caffeine all. day. long. to overcome the brutal exhaustion that surreptitiously creeps into my brain after 2-3 hours post coffee/tea/diet pepsi max.

So after a long weekend of homework, take home tests, an absurd amount of drinking, and an even more absurd amount of not sleeping, I took melatonin and crawled in bed at 8pm for what was sure to be the answer to all of my life's problems. I could barely make it through a chapter of my John Grisham book I was so exhausted. I turned out the lights and laid awake until, oh, 5am. While being completely and totally exhausted. and *not* sleeping.

Since this wasn't fucking maddening enough--upon waking this morning I dragged myself out of bed, only to have a completely unfamiliar brand of shitty slam me in the face.

I called out to Becky to alert her of only what I could presently figure out - which was that I was really sick, possibly dying, and maybe I needed her help. Appropriately, the world then went silent and black and I woke up in front of my bathroom vanity after a very refreshing and very unplanned nap.

I called out to Becky again and instructed her that she probably needed to call an ambulance, a doctor, my mom, maybe the pope. As Becky comes to my door, I realize that I'm not only lying on my floor, but I'm lying on my floor mostly naked with no means of covering myself since I am completely immobile. So, laying there, and SURE of the fact that I was dying, was washed over with a wave of sudden extreme modesty, and told her she was NOT allowed to come in, but if she could please bring me some water that would be fantastic.

Becky returns with water and attempts to hand it to me with one arm through a tiny crack of my open door. I have no means of reaching said water because I'm still laying on the fucking floor and moving was not an option yet seeing as the world was still mostly black/spinning/silent. So now I'm like, Becky, wtf are you doing, I can't move, come in, jesus christ I'm dying lady. So Becky comes in, comments on the fact that I'm really white, my lips are white, brings me clothes, runs back downstairs and fetches the Brita, comes back, and settles in beside me to finish her homework to make sure I don't, in fact, die. A good 30 min of laying on the floor, watching the kitten fucking drink my water, but was nice enough to take turns with me, and not even caring that he had his entire fucking head in my glass, re-hydrated and moved on with my life.

So the good news is, its 12 pm, I'm alive, on my third cup of coffee, 6th glass of water, and I will make it to my confocal microscopy appointment on time.

Three cheers for Becky who undoubtedly saved my life this morning.