So everyone loves their own bed right? But I REALLLLLLY love my bed. It's a queen sized super mega pillow top. There's like 9 inches of top on this beast. It surrounds your body like a fluffy cloud of comfort, like you laid down upon hundreds of fuzzy bunnies playing in goose down with cotton candy. And my pillows are out of this world squishy comfy amazing. They never ever get flat. And I only use flannel sheets and extra soft blankies. Which I wash all of on sheet washing sundays. So, long story short, I'm legit obsessed with my bed. If I'm not at work, or the bar, then I'm in my bed. Christie gives me shit all the time because like every time we skype or even talk, I'm just laying in my bed. Just like this:
And she laughs at me because I must seem like the biggest sloth ever. Most of the time I'm not wearing pants either so I gotta make sure I don't shift around or it'll be like a chat roulette sesh gone bad. I'm actually really surprised that I don't have bedsores from this endless love connection between me and ye ole pillowtop. Ok gotta go roll around in my flannels and dream of being in my bed while I'm in my bed.
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