Night 4: She screamed, I screamed, there was NO ice cream
Whenever I feel the slightest bit of discomfort, I have to remind myself that I’m in a Third World country with far more comfort and amenities the 98% of the people around me. Nonetheless, I’m going to whine for just a moment and it’s perfectly acceptable to shame me in this circumstance.
I’ve whined a bit to a handful of team members (but not on FB) about how my back hurt the first night here. One of the team members asked me if I was sleeping on an actual mattress or if it was a boxspring. That’s when I realized that I’m sleeping on a boxspring, not a mattress. And yes, there is a boxspring underneath the boxspring I’m sleeping on. Apparently, that seems to be the standard pattern here, at least for the rooms that we are in.
Some people might consider our room a deluxe room. It’s huge – probably two or three sides the times of an average (US) bedroom. There’s enough room for both of our beds – which I think are queens, as well as four arm chairs and a desk. Even with all that furniture, there’s still enough room for a small dance floor in there. (There isn’t one, but this room is large enough for one.)There’s a flatscreen TV mounted to the wall and a small wardrobe closet in the corner. The bathroom is just a standup shower, sink, and toilet, but since we (women) have to squat to pee in a hole on the ground in the village at our work site (you’re welcome! 😳), this is a luxury.
I’ve mitigated the problem by folding the duvet and comforter into thirds and laying it lengthwise down the bed and sleeping in that narrow space. It helps, but I miss my bed. Then I tell myself, “Most people here don’t even HAVE a bed, so get over your first world problems and move on.”
Let the shaming begin.
Oh wait! First, the screaming….
Last night, Meredith stayed up to deal with getting the A/C fixed (yes, she’s a saint). I laid down on my bed and just like that, I was out like a light. It took her three trips before it was fixed (she finally knocked on the manager’s door and he came over and fixed it right away), and she finally had a chance to sleep around 10:30 p.m. A few hours later, I woke up to use the bathroom and was trying to be as quiet as possible. I crept to the bathroom, used the facilities, flushed the toilet, washed my hands, opened the door, then started to turn off the light and prepare to creep back to bed.
Suddenly, Meredith let out an ear-splitting scream, and of course I reciprocated with my own scream of terror.
Then, we saw each other in the dim light of the bathroom. I realized she had been scared when she suddenly woke and heard the sound of someone creeping around the room (me) and I had been scared by her scream. We both started laughing hysterically, apologized to each other, and I climbed back into my bed. Eventually, we slept again, after our hearts stopped racing and the adrenaline stopped pumping.
This brings to mind the age old question- exactly how quiet should you be sharing a room with someone? Where is the line between quietly respectful and terrifyingly creepy?
And there was no ice cream.
You may now begin laughing at me and/or shaming me.
