Unofficial Fan of Blankets

I am so bored. "How bored?" you ask. SUPER BORED. It's one of those days. You know the kind. It's like I have some sort of intense aversion to doing something useful. I just can't. And isn't for a lack of useful things to do. Finish registering for classes? Nah. Clean my room? No way. Do my book club reading? Psh. I'm behind about a hundred pages. I figure when I'm that far behind, there's no saving this thing (... just until I'm feeling productive again. Then I really will catch up). Blog stalk? Oh yeah, that sounds really fun and like a good way to spend a couple of hours! ... I'm not sure it was really that long. But it's not like I've been keeping track. 

*A Side Note*

Dear Reader,

     If you're still reading along, hoping and praying that this blog post is going to get better, I hate to rain on your parade, but it's really not. Save yourself while you can.

This is today. And it's not even worth blogging about, believe me, I know. But all that blog stalking got me in this mood. I was reading all those super exciting and terribly witty posts, and now I want in on that action (but don't except anything super exciting or terribly witty here - like I said, this isn't a pretty one). Which brings me to my actual purpose for blogging: blankets.

Sure, we're all fans of blankets. They're warm, they're cuddly, they're lovable. Like sea otters. Minus the fact that they are not alive. And some other stuff, but let's not go into all that. So we agree we all like blankets, yes? It may be possible, however, that I more than like blankets. Like maybe I have a little bit of a fetish. It's totally silly. Because, I mean, they're blankets. What kind of wacko has a blanket fetish? I mean, a shoe fetish? Yes, that's normal. Bag fetish? Yes. Still normal. Blankets? ... Weird. But I love them. And I kinda have a lot of them. Way too many of them. In fact, I'm running out of places to keep them. The top of my closet and the space under my bed can only fit so many. And yet, I continue to throw my money at blankets. Like this one.

This is my newest acquisition. Cute, right? It's huge and soft, and I feel like I'm sleeping on a cloud when I cuddle up in it. Which makes me want to cuddle up in it now with a good book (like Les Mis! Look, I may be productive yet!) I love this blanket. But that's not the point. The point is, there is really no justification for my blanket fetish. Honestly, there isn't a soul on the planet who really needs more than a couple blankets (I will make an exception for those in Russia. I hear it's pretty chilly). So what am I doing, spending my hard earned cash on blankets? I can't even think of a good reason. I need to stop. Besides, I really am out of room.

I am an un[OFFICIAL] fan of blankets.