Hopefully the police don't read this, because I think I'm technically that blanket's employer

Note: This was originally posted as a facebook note a few months ago when I was still living in the dorms at Oregon State University. 

So after spending three hours in my bed tonight watching a marathon of American Pickers (it still counts as a marathon if it is just me repeatedly playing them on Netflix, right?) I realized that I had reduced my bed to what could roughly be viewed as a singular mass of swirled up blankets roughly perched on a mattress that was desperately trying to cling to its fitted sheet (and failing). After wondering if it should worry me that I apparently writhe violently while watching TV, I realized I would need to make my bed if I wanted to sleep in it tonight.

But first I moved my computer out of the depths of the blanket-whirlpool on my bed to my desk and read blogs for a while. A long while. Finally, I realized that three things needed to happen: I needed to shower, I needed to make my bed, and I REALLY needed to pee. The last one pretty much overruled the other two, and being a genius I realized that showering also takes place in the bathroom (my deduction powers are amazing.) Now, I know myself pretty well. And I knew that the last thing I would want to do after showering was anything that felt like chores. Making the bed=chores. However, it is also absurd, unthinkable even, for me to make TWO separate trips to the bathroom. Because lazy always beats intelligent.

After showering I was determined to prove my earlier self wrong. I would make the hell out of that bed and not simply resort to tunneling under the heap of blankets and curling up like some desperate animal (because it is much harder for them to make beds properly, lacking thumbs and all that.) However, after pulling all the covers off my bed and onto the floor, I spent longer than was acceptable debating whether or not I could just sleep on the bare mattress or the (very cozy looking) blanket-floor-nest.

But I am nothing if not tenacious! So I began to make my bed. When I got to the blanket my parents had brought back from Mexico, it had somehow built up enough static electricity to shock me THREE TIMES. Oh, I get it Mr. Blanket, you are judging me for not doing this earlier when I would not have been disturbing my roommates who are waiting (oh so patiently) for me to finish my extremely long process of bed-making so they can sleep and escape my craziness for a moment by slipping into blissful unconsciousness.

WELL YOU CAN'T JUDGE ME, MEXICAN BLANKET, YOU ARE AN ILLEGAL IMMIGRANT! WHERE IS YOUR GREENCARD, HUH?

And that is how I discovered that I am racist against linens while making my bed. Thank you and goodnight.

Just one of those days

You know the kind of day when you read blogs for hours and then finally decide you have to do dishes because you thought it would be fun to drink pop out of your water bottle, which it was but now your water bottle is all sticky on the inside and besides that cereal bowl has been on your desk for two days which is probably not sanitary?

So you walk to the lounge and the creepy guy who lives two doors away from you is in there and even though he doesn't talk to you or anything you hate that he is even around and then you feel bad because he really isn't doing anything, and it makes you contemplate your overly-judgemental nature for a second.

 But anyway it feels awkward somehow so you try to wash your dishes quickly but while you are standing there a muscle in your thigh starts twitching annoyingly and all you can focus on besides that is the inane conversation the girls behind you are having about cheerleading while for some reason standing on chairs.

And you finally finish washing everything and then you become strangely aware that the back of your shirt says "tackle the virgins" and you start thinking about how to explain that to someone else, except you can't remember what book you were studying when your teacher said that and by the time you sort of decide it was probably Farewell to Arms (even though that still doesn't seem quite right) you realize that no one around here cares or is likely to inquire about the back of your shirt.

So you walk back to your room and of course the really short girl in your hall who wears way too much eye liner who you see EVERYWHERE (like seriously a freakish amount) is there and smiles and says hi to you, which is off-putting only because you literally see her up to ten times a day and she has NEVER acknowledged you before.

So you say "hey" back, although it comes out weird and croaky because you have been silently reading blogs all day and not using your voice, and besides your throat is dry because earlier you drank all your water and then drank sprite, which made your water bottle all sticky and prevented you from getting any more water until you washed your dishes. But it makes it seem like you are really shy or didn't want to say hi to super-short-stalker-racoon girl so then you just feel like an idiot.  

And when you finally get back to your room you remember that both of your roommates are at study sessions because they, unlike you, are actually being productive today. So there is no one to tell your (actually rather uninteresting) story to and you can't watch Doctor Who to pass the time because your sister hasn't paid the Netflix bill, which you really shouldn't complain about because you've been using it extensively for free for months but you will complain about anyway because you feel like it.

Yeah, I'm having one of those days.