Hogs, pretzels, and star fish

I'm not going to lie... Lately my brain feels as if it has been sucked dry of any and all things that are considered random/funny/pointless.  I don't know why.  My exhaustion and lack luster blogging approach could be because I have been busy with life.  You know how it is.  The never ending cycle of work, laundry, paying bills, and being on a life mission of finding the perfect unitard that both accentuates the positives, AND sparkles.  It's a tough combo.  And incredibly time consuming.  So as I sit back in my chaise lounge while donning a uni that neither sparkles nor accentuates the goods, I thought to myself, "Self.  What ARE you going to blather on about today?"  And then I answered myself, "Well self, there isn't a whole lot to share at the moment.  I don't think people will find it especially interesting how I discovered another gray particle that tries to pull itself off as a hair, or that I have never gotten over the fact that NEVER ONCE during a Romper Room episode was my name ever mentioned.  Ever."  And then I give myself a hug, and remind myself that I AM somebody.  From that point on it just becomes awkward.  The only thing that has popped up in this random magnificent bean is how my husband continuously hogs all of the sheets and sprawls like a starfish, so that I spend most nights  having a toasty warm big toe, and not much else.  And because of his sheet stealing ways, the blankets end up resembling a pretzel.  Here's the problem, and random fact number 352 about me:
If the blankets and sheets on my bed are not smoothed and tucked, I will not, and cannot sleep.  When I was a kid my mother would have to tuck me in at night, and I use the term "tuck" loosely.  You see, I wouldn't be able to fall asleep unless I was swaddled like an infant.  The blankets had to practically cut off circulation before I was pleased.  Garfield's face had to resemble that of one that had received copious amounts of Botox, because it was pulled so tight.  Now, I'm not as bad now, but if the sheets are in a bunch, so is my attitude.  What usually occurs is something like this:  Lenny is happily entangled in the blankets, not giving a care in the world that his wife is having a meltdown over the fact that the sheets are unsleepable.  As he rests in his slumber I typically yank the blankets and sheets with all of my might, as he rolls like a log, teetering precariously close to the edge of the bed.  In my huff I fluff the sheets and blankets, attempting to smooth them out, and then eventually lay back down having the bedding just so.  The funniest part is, as I'm having an adult temper tantrum, Leonard continues to snooze like a happy star fish.  *sigh*  He's lucky he's a cute star fish.
So there you have it.  I told you I'm lack luster, so sorry if this post was a colossal failure.
Until next time, friends. I bid you, adieu.  :)
Redemption!  Here is a clip of Romper Room.  Notice how my name is not mentioned.  And yes, it still pisses me off.  Sonofabitch: