Of sleepy voices and brown paper bags

I sleep a lot. By 'a lot' I mean ridiculously copiously. Like, 14hours at a stretch, if I so wish. And if there is nothing incredibly pressing to do, of course. But the number of things which fall into the 'incredibly pressing' category is small, shrinking, and subject to no rational intelligent logic whatsoever. I sometimes decide it is 'incredibly pressing' that I get UP UP UP and see if my pink cable-knit jumper has shrunk cos I've left it on the heater for too long, or that I MUST MUST MUST immediately devour that half-pint of Ben and Jerry's in the fridge. On the other hand, however, the fact that I have another one of those interminable briefs due at 3pm and it's already past noon and I *know* Professor Bane already hates me, or that my phone is blinking (yes, it blinks when there are incoming calls when I put it on 'sleeping' mode, because I use it as an alarm clock and I sleep at all sorts of strange times and I do not want to be disturbed when I'm having my 8hr 'afternoon nap') and this is like the third time during my extended nap today that my section-mate has called and that, hmm, possibly, just possibly, he might have something urgent to tell me about our class presentation next week are not matters that in the smallest way constitute 'incredibly pressing'. Yes, I'm terrible. But I maintain that sleepy voices are not sexy (well mine isn't, anyway), and there's no way on earth I'm going to answer a call from someone I don't know inside-out and view as completely non-sexual when I've just woken up. It may be an emergency, your grandma may have just eaten your cat, your cat may have just eaten up your final paper due tomorrow, it may be 10.55am and I may be mysteriously MIA when we've arranged to meet at 9am.. these things don't matter. Unsexy and gross is unsexy and gross, period. I am not picking up that call.

Oh and if you've heard my sleepy damn-it-why-can't-life-be-spent-in-bed-sleeping voice, congrats. You either are one of the select few I know (and love) very well, and/or have as much sex appeal as a brown paper bag*.

*to me, that is. I cannot speak for the rest of the world, which may or may not view brown paper bags as exceedingly sexy. Don't despair.