In Cold Blankets
by Will Bailey
I just woke up on the wrong side of the bed. As in outside the covers. And now I’m freezing. I can’t say I’m surprised: this happens every morning. I go to bed so hot you could fry an egg on my knee, and then I wake up in a meat locker. I suppose you could blame my walrus-style body type that takes forever to cool down after a vigorous day of tusk sharpening (exercising), fin slapping (writing), and belly flopping (belly flopping). However, I prefer to blame something else entirely: a force of concentrated malevolence so devious, it wears a little blue collar with a jingly bell in case it escapes. I’m talking, of course, about Cat. You might remember Cat’s insatiable penchant to sink his teeth into my ankles whenever they are exposed. This is why I live in fear, and also why I can’t let my feet cool in the night air when I go to bed. Ergo ipso Factotum, starring Matt Dillon, Cat is the reason I go to bed hot, and wake up cold. Yes. So, uh, we can close the file on that one. So…now what? I guess I could talk about something else. Reader “Rudy” suggested I do a piece on this country’s apparent obsession with Kim Kardashian. That’s funny! She doesn’t even do anything, and she’s a billionaire! Oh, man! That- Ugh, this is horrible. I can’t even think straight…probably because I didn’t get any sleep last night…because I can’t regulate my own body temperature…because we live with an ornery feline. See! I’m not just making this stuff up! This…this is my life.