Wednesday, 30 May 2012
A treatise on living in bed.
As the interminable horrors of exams and essays lumber thunderously into view like an academic blitzkrieg, I am reminded of a quote by the divine Douglas Adams- "I love deadlines. I like the whooshing sound they make as they fly by." Working to a strict deadline is an archaic and bizarre fashion to me. My best work, if I may be obscure for a moment, is delivered on my own terms, not to be squeezed out of me in a single sitting. If that means I lie in bed til midday and only rise to watch Pointless on BBC 1, so be it. In fact, working in bed is a glorious luxury in itself that should be afforded to all of us. I am sure the world would be a much happier place if more tasks were be able to be accomplished from bed. In fact, some of the worlds greatest minds worked in bed, Mark Twain for instance. Work, though it may indeed make the world go round does stress one inordinately so, with dire effects for peoples moods and relationships with each other. Of course, society would indeed collapse if the entire populace lived their lives restricted to their beds, not to mention the hideous bedsores this plan being implemented would no doubt produce, but I feel this is a small price to pay in order to reap the benefits of permanent sloth.