Lounge lizards

This post is for Mackessy, who wanted to hear more about the lounging.

Today is a lounge day. It’s 88 degrees and I am sitting in a hammock, listening to music and catching up with what the rest of the world has been up to. Read: I have done absolutely nothing all day.

 

Santa Teresa is a very beautiful place however there is a bit of petty crime here. This morning, Collin got his flipflops stolen while surfing. Pretty much nothing on the beach is safe; nothing can be unmonitored. They watch you.

Collin’s beginning to worry me.

Last night I woke up to the sound of wrinkling plastic wrap. I looked over to see Collin sitting, Indian style, on his bed, inhaling a roll of oreos (here you can buy a roll of a dozen oreos for 75 cents). It was pretty dark, I was half asleep, and I couldn’t see him too well; I was going to say something but decided not to. In the morning I had a suspicion he had been sleepeating; so I asked him if he remembered eating a roll of oreos in the middle of the nite. He stared at me blankly and said, ‘No. I didn’t do that.’ I looked down at the oreo wrapper next to his bed. He started laughing and said, ‘Man, I feel sorry for you, having to share a room with me.’ This, not because of the oreo incident, but because it is the third nighttime incident in the past week. In the dorm room at the lake, again in the middle of the nite, Collin got up and was fiddling around with something. I didn’t pay much attention to it (my bunk was next to his). In the morning, I saw him get up and open his locker, which is adjacent to the bed. In it was his pillow. He looked at the pillow, looked at me, and shook his head. ‘I was looking for this,’ he said. Apparently he got up in the middle of the nite, found his locker key, UNLOCKED THE LOCKER, placed his pillow in the locker, and locked his locker, while still asleep. In the morning he couldn’t find his pillow. He didn’t remember putting it in the locker.

That was the second incident. The first incident was maybe three days before that, when, in the middle of the nite (I think this was in La Ceiba), he asks me, ‘John, have you figured out how to cross from the Caribbean to the Pacific?’ Flummoxed, wondering why on earth he was asking that irrelevant question, and at 3 in the morning, I simply said, ‘No.’ He didn’t respond. In the morning I asked him why he had asked me that question. Collin: ”What question?” when I told him what happened, he said, ‘Oh yeah, sometimes I do that.’

We have gone from sleep talking to sleepwalking to sleepeating. I wonder what the rest of the week will bring. Sleepflying?