Do you have a bed in your home? Do you ever leave your front door unlocked or perhaps a window ajar?

If you have answered ‘yes’ to any of these questions, then you are at risk for finding me taking a nap in your house.

You can call me No-ldilocks.

This round of chemo was acutely worse for the first week. Now my main problem is exhaustion.  I spend a solid amount of my day yawning and calculating my next nap.

Now I have always loved a nap, but this is different. This is like Olympic level napping. When I reach that plateau, I need to find a soft landing pad cause I am going down.

Instead of planning my day around meals, I plan my day around naps. If I don’t get one (or two or three), I become even more useless than I was to start out with. I really am turning into a giant, bald, cranky baby.

I am a loungehound by nature, but I also love to exercise and not having the energy to do so, has aided and abetted in my increased sour mood. As I lay supine for the billionth time a day, I am overwhelmed with my lament over becoming a sloth.

Now listen, I LOVE sloths. I respect the shit out of their work ethic and general modus operandi, but a sloth-like lifestyle doesn’t work for me full-time. To add another cool ‘S’ word into the mix, I feel I am becoming slovenly (google it).

Speaking of slovenly behavior… In the absence of hair, it is quite easy to just forget to bathe. Taking a shower is so lame these days. I soap up, rinse off, get out. It’s a snoozefest and regrettably forgettable. Nothing to lather, nothing to shave, just boring old cleanliness.

If you mixed Pigpen + a sloth + a over-tired baby = Me. 

I realize I am selling my sex appeal hard on this blog post. Good luck not dreaming about me tonight.