Pickled: A Night Cap

Pickled: A Night Cap

Let’s spend the night together.

I’ve put off taking a shower all day and I finally ran out of excuses as to why I shouldn’t bathe myself and force myself to shower. There’s just something very exhausting about getting naked and then putting clothes back on. It takes a lot out of a person sometimes. Anyways, I put on my playlist ~H.B.I.C.~ on Spotify which makes for a diverse hygienic experience. I wash my hair to Rihanna’s S&M and then shave my legs to Led Zeppelin. Okay, I totally didn’t shave my legs. Who am I kidding?

Let’s go into my bedroom. Ah, this is where all the magic happens. And by “magic” I obviously mean countless Harry Potter quizzes which determine which House I should be sorted into. Slytherin Forever.

My room is, uhm, well…it’s fucking nasty.

“Oh, my room is just a mess right now. I’m so sorry!” says the friend whose room has a pile of dirty clothes on the floor and an empty Starbucks cup perched upon the nightstand table. Basic.

I can’t remember the last time I felt the carpet on my floor let alone saw it…I don’t own a dresser and I don’t use my closet. If I can make it to my bed without stepping on an erect zipper from a pair of jeans or heaven forbid there’s an abandoned Lego on the ground, I’ve succeeded for the day. All I know is that I need to make it to my bed without maiming myself. And my lamp is not controlled by a light switch which means it’s a whole different game plan trying to make it over there to turn it on, so basically I just live in darkness.

Boom. We have landed. I lay down and knock over my laptop EVERY damn time because it sits on my bed because I don’t own a table. And as it tumbles to the ground it takes down a glass of chocolate milk and an old box of Cheez-Its. I pick up my computer and set it on the side of my bed where I can lay down and snuggle with myself and watch Netflix until I pass out. But first, the stalking must commence.

I get on Facebook with my computer and then for some reason I get on Facebook with my phone. So I’m laying here, with the same site pulled up on two different devices because I like to be thorough. Eventually I will flip over to Twitter on my phone but still keep my eye on my laptop in case anything interesting on Facebook pops up. A rarity.

Now it’s time for what I like to call “Sleep Round One”. I put on Family Guy and feel around for my Winnie the Pooh stuffed bear that I shamelessly snuggle with every night. Its head is misshapen because I crush it with my face because I AM ALONE. He’s still beautiful to me though. Shut up, we all have our vices.

Then I fall asleep for about three hours. Round One is over. Every night, without fail, I will wake up at some point in the night and go to the fridge and eat a pickle. Every night. Sometimes it happens three or four times throughout the night and sometimes it’s more than just a pickle. One time I woke up with a fork and a bowl of ranch beside me. Apparently I had woken up and sliced up some tomatoes and poured ranch over them, ate them, and went back to sleep. I guess that happens when I’m out of pickles. Things could be worse. I could be waking up and walking outside, naked, and trying to pee in the bushes. I count my blessings.

I somehow make it back to my bed without any major injuries and sleep for the rest of the night. I’ll wake up every now and then and turn Family Guy back on and then roll over and have dreams about weird shit. The other night I had a dream where I did heroin with my 3rd grade self. I think my pickles may have been laced with something that night.
Alright, well now you know what it’s like to sleep with me. I’m a night to remember, you guys. I hope you had as much fun as I did 😉

One day I’ll lead a glamorous life where I fall asleep in a bed of money being lulled to sleep by my British lover named Archie but until then, I’ll continue waking up in a pool of unidentified snack crumbs and drool.

Maybe I’ll see you in our dreams and we can do some drugs and eat some snacks.

Salty dreams.

Bye, beeshes.


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