The Worst Part about Sleeping with Gas Monkey

Lately I have not been inclined to write, obviously. With the stress of the holidays, and now the stress of preparing for the GRE (for the billionth time), not much has happened in my daily life that would be of interest to the masses. Until last night.

A little background information. Gas Monkey is mostly a very pleasant person to sleep with (as in actually sleeping, all you dirty-minded folks). He generates a lot of body heat. Not only is he warm, he is a cuddler. Which means I must reciprocate the cuddling. He hugs me, and then turns around, and then I hold him. Remember this important detail, it will come in handy later. Most of the time the cuddling and warmth override all the negative aspects of sleeping with Gas Monkey.

He snores, but will stop if I push on him pretty hard. Up until last night, I thought the worst part of sleeping with Gas Monkey was the stinkiness. And as my own mother so "pleasantly" found out last Christmas, when Gas Monkey is stinky (which is all the time), it can produce a revulsion that becomes almost animalistic. What I mean is, when you catch a whiff, you cannot help but claw your way out of the room in retreat. Anyways, back to the story.

So I thought the snoring and the stink were the worst parts. But recently Gas Monkey has developed a new behaviour - drooling. And not just drooling, but drooling on my pillow while he is cuddling me, unbeknownst to me. Now that I have set up the scene, let me describe the moment that inspired me to write a blog for the first time in a month.

It is early early morning. Gas Monkey is cuddling me. The sheets are warm, and I am sleeping pleasantly. Suddenly, the warmth slowly abandons me and I hear (and feel) this gigantic lump next to me roll over. "Cuddle me," I hear in a barely audible adorable little boy voice coming pathetically from a very big man. "Alright," I think to myself, it is only fair. As I roll over, I groggily put my head back on my pillow. SQUISH!!!!!!! My cheek lands in a foreign round spot of wetness, Gas Monkey's drool. And the only way to describe it is . . . gross.

And then the problem, do I get out of the bed and the warmth to go and wash my cheek? I'll be honest, no. Instead I flip the pillow over and continue to cuddle Gas Monkey. Warning to Gas Monkey: be careful where you place your cheeks at night. Revenge is a b#tch.

Now that was inspiring to me, was it not inspiring to you?