I used to fall asleep at a study carrel on the fifth floor of the Lockwood Memorial Library on the University at Buffalo campus frequently in undergrad and then again in graduate school. The carrels had cushioned benches with built-in desk lamps that created a soft, warm light. In the frigid Buffalo winters the heat would be blasting and I’d settle in to do work and end up falling asleep on a pile of books and printed pages instead. No one ever woke me up—not a librarian or a campus security guard. I am sure they had rules about sleeping too, but they weren’t enforced against me. I was not
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