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From 0 to Midlife Swamp Monster in 2.4 Seconds
I have entered a stage of my life called the “Wet Bar of Soap” stage.
Google is a rude bitch. We are no longer on speaking terms. It’s not Google’s fault. Google is just doing its job. Once again, I blame whoever came up with the design that is called the female body that cared not to leave us a manual. It’s impolite.
It was brought to my attention recently that when I sleep, there are times that I become so hot and sweaty that my side of the bed has its own weather, and that weather could be described with words one might generally use in connection with the Everglades. Like, swampy. I am swampy.
Clearly, this occurrence has nothing to do with anything sexy happening in my bed. This is just a normal Monday night in January when most people are cuddled up under blankets.
Me? I’m over here generating enough heat that I could be used as a human hibachi. If you stuck a piece of uncooked meat on me, it wouldn’t stay uncooked for long. I’m considering changing my name to Vanihana.
This was not the first occurrence. Last month, my boyfriend told me he tried to move to my side of the bed…
