Holy Dryness, Batman! I don't know why it is that Every. Fucking. Winter. I'm SURPRISED at how dry it gets in the house. I mean, I'll begin to take note with a, "Boy, the cats are sparking when I pull them across the blanket" but I just sort of note it in passing and then my brain flits on to the next thing, like what Honey Boo Boo's up to. Then I notice my nipples are dry and chafed and I'm sporting a bloody snorkel-tube. And then there's the final clue when even a large caking of Blistex on my lips doesn't keep 'em moist, and I find myself dry-mouthed and gasping for water around 2 a.m.
That night was last night.
And I just painted a very sexy picture for you, huh? You're welcome.
Now you know why My Mister finds me so irresistible. It's the slick lips and chafed nips. And I really lure him in as I'm digging blood boogers out of my nose all night long. BECAUSE I HAVE TO, READER, NOT BECAUSE I WANT TO. I enjoy BREATHING and they're blocking my passageway.
My burny-burny nasal spray can't even get through.
Tonight I said, "I guess I'd better go get the humidifier out of the basement." Because we own a solution to the problem, but are too lazy to go and get it until situations are dire around here, wherein "dire" equates to really sparky cats and cracked nipples and gasps for a cool cool drop of water in the middle of the night.
It took all of three minutes to set it up. It's plugged in right now spewing blessed moisture into the air.
Why, oh why must it come to all this before we take action? Am I passive/aggressive against myself, Reader??
I don't know, but I'm I'm excited to have a moist mouth tonight.
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