After arguing and fighting with people for many years now, I can proudly say, and without regret that I love to sleep. The rigorous and unorganized schedule of camp didn't change that. It didn't matter to me if I had to skip parade - skipping parade sounds rather permissive, the right word being "duck" parade. I strategically hung my mosquito net and covered myself in my blanket in a way that my roommates had a hard time telling if I was on my bed, except of course for my bunkie who always complained of how much I shook the bunk, which I blamed on the age of the bunk, when in fact it was an indices of how much I was enjoying my sleep - talk more of soldiers who came into rooms to chase us out. On the last day in camp, my bunkie, thinking he was doing me a favour woke me up by 3am! "3am?! Common! You should've given me an hour more" was my thought, but my consolation was "It is the last day". The day all the fears that lingered in my...
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