You’ve woken up bright and early. 7:50 am on a Tuesday. You cast a glance at your smug roommate in their immaculate fortress of fluff and comfort. A look of contempt and pride on their sleeping face. You have to begin your backbreaking day, and this bag of bones gets an additional 45 minutes of slumber before sauntering and stumbling about for another 16 hours.
And still, you’re expected to tread lightly? Open your drawers with tenderness? Close the bathroom door before you use it?
How dare they insinuate that request with their fluttering eyelids! How dare they set you tiptoeing and whispering when your day ought to begin with roaring and chest-pounding?
Come to think of it, your sleeping roommate does not matter.
Relish slamming your closet door. Savor every second that you gargle after brushing your teeth. Knock over that Hydro Flask with gusto. Rapturously zip up every pocket of your backpack.
No, wait. What is this that you are beginning to feel? Pity? Remorse? No, stop that. They deserve this, you know. Remember the time they asked you to take out the trash? And now they are bold enough to expect REM while you are making your dreams a reality. Think of it as a favor. Your sleeping roommate does not matter.