Fishing and Snoring and Self-Portrait Whoring

I can’t stop watching River Monsters. I’m watching it right now. It’s a show about creepy fish that I end up watching every night as I fall asleep. (Learning about the giant snakehead tonight.) You’d think this habit would be giving me fish-themed anxiety dreams, but nope, still tornadoes, wasps and spiders surrounding me in enclosed spaces, and post-apocalyptic nightmares, as usual. No fish.

I was a huge animal nerd as a kid, and still spend more time watching animal and nature shows than most of the people I know. When my mom would take us to the library, I’d check out stacks of animal books every time, until I exhausted the library’s supply of them. I never stopped finding them fascinating, I guess. I absolutely would have majored in biology in college if I was better at math.

I’m typing this as I sit on the couch where I will sleep tonight. My husband and I can’t sleep together. I kind of hate it. He snores, and it is surprisingly my first time dealing with snoring. It turns out that not only can I not sleep through snoring, but I also managed to marry the one boyfriend I’ve ever had who snores. Yay, me.

I really don’t like sleeping alone. I don’t feel safe. She whined. Sorry. I’ll stop that. I actually have no real problems in my life, thanks to my recent surgery. All better.

The man who hunts fish on this show just said, “It’s too late to pull out now,” and I mentally added, “That’s what HE said,” and giggled to myself, here, alone on the couch. I’m such a dork. Eyes growing heavy. Time to go to sleep now. Sweet dreams.

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