Bunking Down

This past week I moved out of my parents' house. (Yes, I'm thirty and have a girlfriend and, inspired by Al Franken, affirm myself daily in the mirror: "I'm good enough, I'm smart enough and doggone it, people like me!") One of the big decisions I made while living at my parents' place (besides when to move out) was deciding to switch from sleeping on the top bunk to the bottom bunk. I'm a top bunk lifer, so this choice was not made lightly. And, frankly, I still believe in the merits of the top bunk: better view, no risk of the top bunk collapsing on you if someone heavy is sleeping in it or of hitting your head when waking up to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night, and you get the perk of climbing a ladder to get into bed. The bottom bunk won out, however, because I needed to charge my cell phone overnight and was also using it as my alarm clock. The charger cord wouldn't reach all the way to the top bunk and I'm a big fan of being able to press the snooze button a few times in the morning, so, something had to give. And it was the top bunk.