Bag

Boy howdy, it’s been a while.  It’s been so long since I’ve posted at you that I actually had to strain to remember how to log in to the back end of the site.  Crazy.  I’m sure you’ve been following the snowpocalypse on the news, reader (how could you not, what with nearly twenty-four-hour coverage on every major network), so you’re aware of what we’re all going through over here on America’s earlobe, nose, and eyeball.  Course, that’s no excuse for a guy who writes for a living.  Tough to use the “got stuck in the snow on the way to work” line when your commute to work involves walking across the bedroom in your underwear.  But I will tell you this: it’s nothing short of miraculous that I managed to make it back home to PA on a plane yesterday.  I got out of Chicago right when that particular storm began to bare its teeth and got into Pittsburgh just before this particular storm began to do the same.  When I arrived at the Pitt airport, I had to trudge through a veritable mountain range of snow to find my car, which, when I managed to find it, looked a little something like this.

Anyway, as I was pawing at the relentless mounds surrounding my car with my trusty Bigfoot Kids Toy Snow Shovel, a thought occurred to me.  The thought: Man, it’d be nice if I had Mr. Sleepy in the trunk right now.

“Who is Mr. Sleepy?” you might ask.  Or no… you wouldn’t ask that because you’re intuitive enough to realize that Mr. Sleepy is the sleeping bag pictured at the top of this post. You’re always one step ahead of me, reader.

Point is, while I was unburying my car – and in the process, burying myself – from the cascades of snow, it occurred to me that it would be super nice to just take a break and curl up in my luxurious new sleeping bag.  Problem was, my luxurious new sleeping bag wasn’t in my trunk, where it really outta be in this weather, but rather, it was collecting dust in storage.  Stupid, stupid, stupid. 

Mr. Sleepy was a Christmas present from Jeanette’s family – one of the absolute best things I received during my typically epic Christmas journey. Here’s how excited I was when I opened it up on Christmas Eve.  I was two-chins excited for good reason, reader.  Mr. Sleepy is plenty long to manage my Gisele-like legs, plenty soft to keep me from tossing and turning (even on the concrete floors in my new apartment), rated to stay warm all the way down to 40 degrees, has a hood for those super-cold nights, is constructed in many complicated ways designed to keep heat inside the pack, comes with a free stuff-sack, and was even manufactured by our future overlords. All of these glorious features are possible while still allowing for a pack-down size of 7”x14” and a weight of 2lbs. 5oz.  Having tossed the sucker around, let me just tell you, reader, 2lbs. 5oz. is absolutely nothing.  I’ve held toilet paper rolls that weigh more than that.

Best part: despite its diminutive size, Mr. Sleepy still packs the kind of warmth that’ll make you sweat.  In fact, I’m not sure I’ll even be able to sleep mummy-style on those sweltering Georgia nights.  Mr. Sleepy’s tag tells me that it’s all in the goose down, reader. In this case, the down in question was apparently gathered in a region of France known for its ridiculously soft and springy geese.  I’m sure those weird-ass French harvest plenty of weird-ass foie gras from that same region, but that’s beside the point. Point is, this is the crème de la crème of geese parts, and I’m gonna be wrapping my body in it every night for three months.  Picture me doing just that right now as I type this, Adama all curled up on the couch beside me.  All I need’s some hot chocolate and I’ve got this storm beat.