The Decomposing Pickle on the Crap Sandwich

My beloved blanket cave bit it today. We had only a brief time together but the intensity knew no bounds. We spent countless hours together – wait, no that’s not true, I can count how many hours we spent together on one hand because I suck at counting and because we were afforded so few.

As I sit here and type this the pillows are in the other room air drying, the blanket has been washed and dried, the fan has been going for hours trying to dry out the alcove that made my blanket fort a cave. The chair is sitting there, hopefully being dried by the fan. The stool is sitting in the other room with the pillows but it’s not drying, nope it’s pretty much stewing in its own filth. The memory foam that had formed the “floor” of my cave is in the washing machine. Can memory foam pads go in washing machines? Gulp.

I went to get some hot chocolate because I had a deep and overwhelming need for liquid chocolate. However, no hot chocolate was to be found – well, no good hot chocolate. That right there is the decomposing pickle on the crap sandwich that has been the rest of the week. IT’S ONLY TUESDAY!

So after driving for thirty minutes I gave up and hit a Starbucks. Got home. Slipped on ice a number of times. Poured Bailey’s into my coffee and now I write.

RIP blanket cave. I will do my best to Robocop your beloved ass.

[RIP Hewie. But that’s not a story for teh interwebz.]

Pour some out for ones homies.

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