I’ve mentioned, I think, that the van is a great place to sleep, but not a good place to hang out. Last night I couldn’t sleep, so by definition I was just hanging out. I worked on the computer for a while. Called a friend to chat. (Side note: I used to know a guy who added the words “in bed” to  all fortune cookie messages, e.g. “you will be very prosperous in bed”. But now it’s no joke: if I’m doing something in the van aside from driving, you really can assume the words “in bed”.) I read a book for a while (in bed). Ate all the snacks I could find (in bed). But the parts of me that weren’t under the covers were getting really cold, so I decided to get out the heater.

The heater was under the bed, on the right hand side. I had two choices: put on all my clothes, open the side door, get out of the van, then squeeze underneath the bed, or… I could not bother with the clothes and the going outside, and just do it from the top, sticking my head and chest down the narrow space on the left and then curling myself under the bed upside down to grab the heater at the far side. Of course I chose the hard way. I got to the heater alright, and was about to pat myself on the back, when I realized that I couldn’t get out. I was in my underwear, on my back under the bed with my legs sticking up into the air and my hands over my head on the heater. The doors were all locked, so anyone coming to my rescue would have to break a window or call 911 or BCAA. God, this was going to be so embarrassing!!!

Honestly, I don’t remember how I got out. It must have been a mixture of wiggling and adrenaline and deep deep shame. But by that time I was nice and warm, and ready for sleep. I turned the heater on full blast anyway, just to make it all worth something.