The indignity of being an adult #2984

Every morning I am confronted with the reality of my ridiculous existence.

I frequently masquerade as a well-adjusted, high-functioning member of society.

Yet, every night before I go to bed, I have to braid my hair. 

Why? 

Because I wear a night guard. 

How are these things connected, you ask?

The night guard allows me to wake up without crippling jaw pain, however it prevents me from keeping my mouth totally shut at night.

Enter:  DROOL.

Due to my abnormal sleep patterns and creepy nightmares, my long hair frequently becomes Medusa-like while I slumber.

Without the braid, I wake up nearly smothered by my own drool-marinated locks.

Therefore, braid.

Sigh. 

Monkey.

FACT:  My stuffed monkey, Cedric, is the most versatile and useful item in my possession.
He was gifted to me in 2000 and named after Cedric Diggory from Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire.  Unlike young Diggory, this Cedric continues to survive his adolescence.

Here is a running list of skills Cedric possesses:

  • Excellent face mask to block early morning sun;
  • Can be used as a barrier to interrupt the mouth-wind emanating from the bed partner;
  • Muffles annoying sounds/snoring when draped over ear;
  • Perfectly sized for holding up my Kindle;
  • Useful projectile when you want to send the cats a message at 2am;
  • Bigger than the other stuffed monkey that lives in the bed;
  • Wins all monkey wars with his superior smacking skills;
  • He is machine washable;
  • Cedric does not speak.  Yet.