I Miss My Snugglemuffin (This Is Why I’m Single)


So we have these things called sleeping porches in sorority houses. No, I don’t sleep outside on a porch, though lately it feels that way. They’re rooms that we sleep in on bunk beds…sort of like in the army. Or prison. And in my house, there’s no insulation. So this morning, I woke up to what felt like sub-zero temperatures (though it probably was about…I dunno, 40 degrees? 50? It’s really cold) and had to shuffle out of bed, all stiff and sad with a frozen nose and whatnot.

It’s hard. Not hard like “I never am warm and also I’m starving and poor” hard, cuz that’s obviously a lot harder than this will ever be. But it’s hard to sleep properly when you literally have to wear a hat to bed to stop the heat escaping through your ears.

Only two weeks. Then I move out and live in an apartment. I’m excited.

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Sure, chubs, have a seat between me and my homework.

But what I most wanted to write about it this: I miss my cat, y’all. He slept in my bed almost the whole time I was home for break. This was my life: snuggle with cat, watch Dr. Who, snuggle with cat some more, realize cat is soooo photogenic and take 10 pictures of cat, take 5 pictures of self with cat, realize he’s cuter by himself, Instagram said pictures of cat, snuggle cat more because who’s a pretty boy?, have lunch with best friend/girlfriend Chloe, go home and watch Shahs of Sunset with Chloe, snuggle cat, cat loves Chloe, go to dinner with Chloe (because food is always on our minds), come home and snuggle with cat.

Basically, guys, I can’t get to sleep because Mickey isn’t laying on my feet as I drift into dreamland. He’d lay across both my feet and purr so violently that it was like a mini foot massage. I miss that. I miss my snugglemuffin.

Help.

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He’s pretty cute. Sometimes he poses like a weirdo.

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No feeling matches this
stirring in my bed, expecting to be at school
then opening my eyes and…home.
Where every moment feels slowed down
a bubbled sanctuary from the world
as nothing touches me but softness —
the hugs of my mother
the quilt of my youth
the cat sitting on my face.