The Sexy Demon

The Sisters at this Convent are holy indeed. None are admitted to Wellesley College save those who dedicate their lives to God, known outside the Convent as Success. Success, in Her diverse forms, is the end of all our means and the divinity to whom we profess loyalty.

However.

Success has often warned us about idols -- lesser beings that command our attention away from Her almighty presence. These idols, which will be further detailed in later posts, include Romantic Relationships, Shopping, Having Fun, Partying, and Trying New Things.

(The Medievalist pauses to confess that Wellesley sisters pursue all these idols, despite their holiness. They luxuriate in the sins of a good Friday night and pay homage to a myriad group of indulgences. I also comment that it seems, occasionally, that the Superiors encourage these sins. However, I judge not lest I be judged for enjoying Cambridge Square at dusk.)

The GRAND idol remains, first and foremost in the Sisters' minds, Sleep. Sleep beckons with a seductive figure, a devil who takes the form of the most attractive sex (shifting from sister to sister), and strip-teases upon pillows made of down and Tempur-Pedic.

Sleep wins over most of the Sisters during their stay at the Convent. Some Sisters acknowledge their sin openly, who confess to the Medievalist that they slept fifteen hours a day their freshman year.

Others believe that Sleep is the Breakfast of Losers, and crow at their three o'clock bedtimes and five o'clock alarms. Sleep rules our lives in a contradictory manner, a sinful anti-logic. Sleep does not commune with the angel Health - instead, Sleep has a mind of its own.

Even the Medievalist struggles with this demon. In fact, I cannot be happy in my convent stay without a solid eight hours. When I receive less, I proceed to complain loudly to the rest of the Sisters about what five hours of sleep does to one's wimple.