As a nation we are becoming more and more sleep deprived

As I have mentioned in this column before, I’ve commandeered one of the spare bedrooms in my parents’ house as my writing room.

In the beginning of my career, those halcyon days from, oh, five years ago or so, I at least pretended that said room could be used by guests if needs be. We have now given up that pretence and as the array of writing paraphernalia continues to expand — computer, desk, ergodynamic chair, dictionaries, reference books, printer, shredder, Himalayan salt lamp — my father suggested that we remove the bed to make it less claustrophobic. I dismissed this idea, telling my parents that I was going to move out very, very soon (a lie), and that I didn’t want to cause them any more hassle (another lie).

Me: What if you have a huge influx of guests and suddenly need an extra bed? I’d hate if someone had to sleep on the couch.