Published in On Our Selection News October 10, 2013

Hot summer nights are impractical and disruptive.

Sure, it’s nice for the air to be warm as you’re cutting a sick on the d-floor, because it means that you wont be chilly in your surprisingly scanty ode to sauerkraut costume – but that warm “pleasant” air can quickly turn from ally to enemy. As glorious

as they can be, the Summer nights bring serious annoyances. As well as the constant fear of leaving a visible sweaty wet patch from your bare thighs being on the plastic public seat, Summer also brings with it the joys of sleepless nights. And I’m not talking sleepless in that they are grand parties going on, I’m talking sleepless because despite your best efforts, you’re too much of a hot mess to go to sleep.

As someone who enjoys cuddling up with big blankets, the heat has always been an issue for me. Due to my genius “if-I- can’t-hear-her-the-girl-from-The-Ring-won’t-kill-me” defence strategy developed as a child, I now can’t sleep with my ears uncovered. This means that I either have blankets up over my head, or I’ll sleep with my head under the pillow (after sharing a room with a friend, I found out that I prepare for bed by sliding under the pillow in one slick movement – much like a caterpillar).

Now, this is all well and good for Winter, but as warm weather rolls around, this can present some problems. And because we’re only in Spring, I had banned myself from the air conditioner: the worst was yet to come so I had to build up a tolerance to the sticky warmth. Last night I decided that the only way around it was to make myself so exhausted that I would pass out blanket free and blissfully unaware of the dangers of my exposed ears.

This worked in theory, however in practice things went awry. I started reading a book for a uni assignment about the horrific violence in South Africa in the lead up to the end of apartheid, which incidently is not the best way to calm oneself down for a night of relaxation. The reading light also meant the coming of another of Summer’s joyous irritants: bugs.

I don’t know where these bugs were originally, but as soon as you flick on a light, the little jerks some screaming out of nowhere like a bunch of winged, six-legged One Direction fans at an airport. All of a sudden they are there buzzing around like mindless idiots, repeatedly landing on your face.

I would very much like to say that at this point I behaved like a sensible adult, turned off the light and forced myself to sleep with only a sheet on, but I would be lying: instead I distracted myself with my phone and caught up on a bit of social media. This was a bad idea, as one friend’s photo put me onto the destructive path of #rottweilersofintsagram. Subsequently, I spent the next half an hour looking at smiling rottweiler and giggling to myself. I clearly I had a problem.

Curled up in a ball of perspiration soaked rage, I finally had to give in and use the air conditioner. I’d tried not to resort to the easy way out, but there was no use. I had to admit defeat, and defeat was gloriously cool.

I woke up two hours later because I freezing.