Whoever Invented Electric Blankets Must Not Have Had A Job Or Any Life Ambitions

I have never been a morning person. In fact, I don't really trust morning people. There is something wrong with a person who throws off the covers on a cold winter morning without an ounce of trepidation when the sun is still saying, "Five more minutes!". If you abandon your warm cozy bed that easily in the morning, which did nothing except tenderly snuggle and nurture you through the cold dark night, for a dark scary world filled with ghoulish monsters and evil creatures that have yet to be chased away by the first rays of daylight, there is a problem in your life (abandonment issues?), and you need to sort it out. If we were meant to pop out of bed in the morning we would sleep in toasters, am I right?

And if you tell me, "I don't have issues to work out, I just love mornings!", you've just made me very, very suspicious. Nobody just loves mornings, not without sinister intentions. The early morning joggers are always the ones to find the dead bodies...coincidence? I doubt it very much.

But I'm not here to discuss my completely justified suspicions that early morning risers are someday all going to rise early together and slay us while we sleep. That's not what this blog is about. This blog is about my completely justified suspicions that my bed is plotting to take over my life and force me into eternal servitude.

Let me begin by saying, my bed is fabulous, and is made even more fabulous with the addition of like a billion pillows. However, the bitter November winds are now upon us. Jack Frost has staked his claim once again and set up shop in the Midwest. I like Jack just fine, so long as he stays out of my house and away from my nose (that whole nipping thing is disturbing, Jack, sort out your issues). My bed is usually more than adequate to keep me warm and cozy, but when it gets cold and blustery it sometimes needs a kick in the pants. So to take preemptive measures to combat my frosty acquaintance, I put on my bed...an electric blanket.

I did not anticipate the mayhem that would be unleashed upon my life.

It is a well-known fact that I love to sleep. I make no secret of it, and I refuse to be ashamed. My bed and I have a close relationship based on trust and loyalty, but if I ever had any doubts that my bed was a tiny bit selfish, the electric blanket chased them far, far away.

Usually in the mornings, depending on the hour, my bed will grumble and complain when I climb out. Sometimes, the sheets will entwine themselves with my limbs in my bed's halfhearted attempt to prevent me from leaving, although I believe it is likely more a sign of protest than an actual attempt to hold me against my will.

What my bed doesn't understand is that, there is this thing called life. I have one. Or, at least, I tell myself I do. Mostly, though, I have a job, and that job starts in the early morning. No time for beds to be selfish when people are bleeding out, but my bed either doesn't understand that or doesn't care. It would be perfectly happy if I stayed in bed and slept the day away while everybody in the whole city of Lincoln perished from acute blood loss. Thankfully for the whole city of Lincoln, I would probably feel more than a little guilty about that, and I would also probably be fired. So, while my bed does make a convincing argument, living the rest of my life without metaphorical blood on my hands makes a better one. 

So where does the electric blanket figure into this conundrum? 

I used the electric blanket as simply a way to kick Jack to the curb while I was asleep (it's bad enough that Santa "sees you when you're sleeping", can a get an amen?). But my bed (my selfish, selfish bed) immediately latched onto the electric blanket and used it as a means to accomplish its own devious purposes, namely, keeping me in bed as long as possible every morning. 

It began slowly, a gradual drift from the consistent patterns of sleep to which I had so faithfully held fast. After a wonderful, blissful nights sleep, my alarm would so rudely awaken me, like always. And my bed would fill my ears with lies (like, "five more minutes won't hurt anything", and, "there's nothing out there for you", and, "the ground is lava, so you can't go anywhere anyways") and promise me that if I stayed in bed forever it would be okay. Nothing new there. But now, the electric blanket, with the warmth it was constantly radiating in the perfect, personalized dose (so unnatural, but so amazing), was acting as a hypnotic, dulling my senses, squelching my resolve. And suddenly, the lies seemed a little truer and the promises a little sweeter...I was in trouble.

And over the course of a week or so, it began to become apparent in my morning routine. Suddenly, there was no time to straighten my hair, eating breakfast was a luxury in which I could no longer indulge, and the speed limit had become nothing more than a glorified suggestion. My bed and my electric blanket were in cahoots, and my life was being hijacked! 

So, what to do? My mornings were becoming ridiculously rushed, and it was only a matter of time until they had me convinced that the world outside my unbelievably comfortable blanket-cacoon did not exist. I couldn't take the electric blanket off the bed. No, that was out of the question. I was hopelessly addicted to crawling into warm blankets every night. I still am, cause the blanket's still on there. My friends should probably stage an intervention, or at least check me into rehab. 

(On a side note, let me just mention that if I ever go into a coma, if you have any desire for me to ever wake up, don't throw an electric blanket over me. If I'm already having issues coming around, giving me the essence of comfort itself will not help, I promise. If however, you are enjoying the peace and quiet that my coma would undoubtably bring, then by all means, feel free.)

So, since taking the blanket away is out of the question, and keeping it around is also out of the question, basically my only option is just to...try to hold out until summer. If I can keep my wits about me, dig deep into my self control, call upon the strength of my ancestors, paint with all the colors of the...you know what? This is sounding pretty exhausting. Maybe I'll just drink a gallon of water every night before bed. Then I'll have to get up in the morning, right?? Yeah, that sounds good. Go back to sleep, ancestors! Everything's fine now!

Let me end with this, friend. If you currently don't have an electric blanket on your bed, and you are considering getting one...RUN FOR YOUR LIFE! Jump in your car and burn rubber in the opposite direction! It's far, far too late for me, and I've made my peace with that, but FOR GOODNESS SAKE SAVE YOURSELVES!

On that note, I think it's time for bed!  *So excited!*