Naked

by David Sedaris

It wasn’t that we were poor. According to my parents, we were far from it, just not far enough from it to meet my needs. I wanted a home with a moat rather than a fence. In order to get a decent night’s sleep, I needed an airport named in our honor.

During episodes of unemployment I find it rewarding to sleep as much as possible — anywhere from twelve to fourteen hours a day is a good starting point. Sleep spares you humiliation and saves money at the same time: nothing to eat, nothing to buy, just lie back and dream your life away.

The first time I met my future brother-in-law, he was visiting my parents’ home and had his head deep in the oven. I walked into the kitchen and, mistaking him for one of my sisters, grabbed his plump, denim-clad bottom and proceeded to knead it with both hands. He panicked, smacking his head against the oven’s crusty ceiling. ‘Oh, golly,’ I said, ‘I’m sorry. I thought you were Lisa.’

With the exception of Lisa, we were not a hugging people. In terms of emotional comfort, it was our belief that no amount of physical contact could match the healing powers of a well-made cocktail.