I turned on to my left side. I turned back to my right side.
I unstacked my pillows to see if sleeping on just one would be more comfortable. Then I dragged one pillow back on top of the other when I realized it wasn’t.
It was shortly before 6 a.m., but I hadn’t looked at my phone to check the time, so I just knew it was dark, sometime between days five and six of our new quarantine lifestyle.
The fan whirred, but I was hot. I pulled the covers off my left leg to cool myself off, but carefully— everyone knows that you can only allow so much of your body outside the covers or else risk attack from the monsters under the bed.
I sighed. I convinced myself not to check my phone because it would just wake me up more. I turned left, right, left, right, and couldn’t get comfortable.
I grew more irritated. A pandemic is sweeping the world, which is enough to make anyone a little cranky.
Plus I had just woken up from a dream that UK men’s basketball sophomore Immanuel Quickley had been quarantined with my family, sitting in my dad’s recliner, off-limits to his kids but apparently not to basketball players. I missed basketball.
And less than 48 hours before, my university made the decision to remain online for the rest of the semester. I didn’t disagree with the decision— having lost two grandpas this winter, I will do anything to help others keep their grandpas even a little bit longer. Then thinking about my grandpas made me sad on top of cranky.
And, to make it all worse, I couldn’t even fall back asleep.
I pulled my leg back under the covers, finally cooling down. I resolved to stay still to increase my chances of easing into sleep.
I still hadn’t checked my phone. I assumed everyone else in the world was sleeping.
Then, from outside my window, I heard a bird chirp. It sounded far away. Then, closer, I heard another bird answer.
A few birds’ singing wasn’t enough to soothe all my other worries.
But it was something.