I sleep on a couch.
In front of a gigantic fan.
Underneath a gigantic ceiling fan.
Both of which run all night long.
I am officially frozen when I wake up. Archeologists have to come in and chisel away the ice until I cane move again, and then they pretend they discovered the missing link! I pay them for that part because it’s fun. Point is, when you sleep in front of a huge fan UNDERNEATH a huge fan, you’re bound to get a tad cold. And that’s what happened last night, for some reason, this morning I woke up and actually could have used my nose drippings as chopsticks. I was covered with ice shards, which sucks ’cause some of it melted and my mom thought I wet the bed. Never a good sign. But what TRULY is sick is that I CAN’T sleep any other way. I have to be freezing and burning hot at the same time, I have to be under some huge blanket and freezing cold by two huge fans at the same time. I can’t be just one temperature, and it so totally stinks!
I guess the only good part about it is that researches keep finding me and I keep making the news as some sort of missing link to man’s evolution. That IS kinda cool. But ultimately, the fact can’t be denied that being freezing cold isn’t a good thing. I’ve heard that dying in the snow is one of the more pleasent ways to die, which, you’d believe would make it more peaceful for me to sleep, but it makes me wonder, “There’s no pleasent way to die! You’re not gonna exist anymore! That’s not PLEASENT!”
Stupid people and their hypothesis’s.
Sometimes I really hate second grade science reports.
MW
