July 27, 2009
I drool at night. This recently came to my attention. And when I say came to my attention, I mean I wake up in the middle in the night with so much drool on my face, pillow and connecting parts, that I can make a fresh and slimy batch of lemonade, or sangria. Anyone want some? There’s plenty to go ’round.
And then in the morning, after I guzzle down an icy glass of saliva lemonade, I look in the mirror and see this patch of tiny zits that point downward on either side of my mouth. It’s like my face is sending me a message that I drool at night, and I’m a disgusting person. I GET IT, FACE!
Like I need that kind of judgement from my own face. Gawd, what a bitch.
Something needs to be done, because my husband doesn’t particularly enjoy waking up each morning soaked in my spit. Or maybe he does, I’ll have to ask…
Regardless, I need to do something.
First thing I thought of was one of those cone things you put on your dog:
You know, to contain the drool. But then when I really thought about it I was afraid of drowning. Like I said, it’s a lot of saliva, and I don’t think it would be fun to wake up dead. My obituary would say: Woman died in her home last night while wearing a dog cone. She drowned in her own drool. That’s some embarrassing shit. I don’t want to go down like that.
Maybe I could tape a washcloth up to my bottom lip.
Or stick a few cotton balls in my mouth.
I’d sleep on my back, but apparently when you’re pregnant you’re not supposed to do that. Plus, I snore when I’m on my back.
So, there’s not a whole I can do about it. I guess I’ll just be the lady with lots of sangria in her fridge. OLE!