I’ve decided to write about something a little lighter today. Yesterday’s post, though popular, seemed to rile some folks. Maybe it’s just my controversial nature, or maybe I just like pissing everyone off, regardless, I hope there are no hard feelings and that none of you hate me. I am woman, hear me roar. Right, guys? Right…?
Yesterday I had remained in bed for most of the day, realizing at 4pm that I should probably run a brush through my hair. I’m a real charmer, I swear.
Bed is a real safe haven for me. Nothing bad can happen while I’m in bed. My whole life I’ve come home from school and went straight upstairs to do my homework in bed. Being sick was a dream because not only did it mean that I didn’t have to go to school, but it meant that I didn’t have to move. Being bedridden was a life goal.
Charlie Bucket’s family always seemed to have it made in my eyes. Four of his family members never left the bed! Ever! Granted, their bed was in the kitchen, but still. I always got a little mad at Grandpa Joe for leaving his perfect situation to go to the Chocolate Factory. Bed wins every time.
Reading, an activity I try to do often, always takes place in bed. I tried to read sitting on the couch once and it just didn’t feel right.
Eating, much to my chagrin doesn’t often take place in bed, though, in my lowest of lows it has. I can’t tell you the number of times that I depressingly ate entire boxes of cereal in bed watching the Kardashian sisters yell at each other.
I had a habit in college of sitting, or just getting into other people’s beds. Some found it strange, others embraced my weirdness. But most found it strange.
If I am online, I am most likely in my bed as well. My laptop is right next to my bed, you know, in case of an emergency or something like that.
Do you like to be in bed as much as I do? Fellow clinomaniacs unite!