Bunk Beds

Our apartment complex currently houses three girls to each room. This means that there are a set of bunk beds and a regular bed for each room. Currently, Uffish has the top bunk and I've got the bottom.

Now there are a great many good things about a bunk bed. You've got "tree-house" possibilities for the top bunk, and "inner sanctum"/fort possibilities for the bottom bunk. You can play drive through fast food restaurant, or weddings, and you get the comfort of knowing that one of your closest friends is right nearby in case you have a bad dream...Or something.

I've actually grown up most of my life with a bunk bed. There aren't too many downsides to bunk beds, at least in my opinion. I really like them. The only unforgivable fault they have is this:

Bunkbeds are horrifically inconvenient for being dramatic.

When I was little I would watch movies with the teenage girls in them where they would come home from a terrible day at school, or come in from having an argument with their mom or something, and then they'd toss whatever was in their hands on the ground, sob dramatically once, and then fling themselves onto the bed with their hair spilling gently over their arms into which their face was burried as they wept softly about how misunderstood they were.

I had a sort of sad wish to be able to reenact this scene in my own life. The only differences would be that I would be crying about something really worth crying about when I did it...And I'd have to do it on a bunk bed.

Finally, the day came when it was time for me to act out my scene. The day had been terrible--I'd gotten a C+ on a pre-algebra test, and it was time for me to go mourn my sorrows with my bed as my only solace.

Well...I ran into the house after being picked up from school, walked calmly down the hallway as to assure that I didn't alert my mother to my plight, and then threw the door to my bedroom askance, flung my backpack dramatically by the wayside, and ran to my bed to fling myself down.

Being entirely caught up in the moment, I seem to have forgotten the fact that I was the person who lived on the top bunk at this time. For being dramatic...That simply wouldn't do. No heroine climbs pathetically up the side ladder to melt unceremoniously onto her covers. No, no...For my big dramatic moment, I needed the bottom bunk. I decided that my sister wouldn't mind too terribly if I used her bed. I glanced around sorrowfully for effect, and then flung myself onto her bottom bunk. The only problem came mid-flight...As I seemed to have forgotten that there existed a top bunk. I ran my forehead into the top bunk as I tried to fling myself dramatically, and got flung backwards instead.

Needless to say, my dramatic moment was ruined. There was no weeping, no billowing soft hair, and definitely no comfort. All I had to show for my dramatic exploits was a bump on the head and a C+ on a pre-algebra test. What a waste of emotions!

I'm better now, I swear. Though I still get the urge on occasion to fling myself dramatically onto a mattress, I manage usually to repress the urge. I can now fully appreciate bunk beds for the space economization and their playful childlike qualities...

...At least until the next pre-algebra test.