Ode to a Heating Pad (We Don’t Sleep, We Kill People)

I love my heating pad. 

I really, really do. It’s like the best friend I never knew I needed. 

Whenever I am feeling blue or having back pain, my heating pad is there for me.

It never asks for anything in return, it just gives. 

I guess in that way, it really exemplifies what true friendship is about.


Anyway, enough with my insane banter. 

Last night/this morning at 1 o’clock, I was awakened from a very deep sleep by a very loud knock on my door.

Knock, knock, knock! “Housing!” 

What in the name of all that is holy. I went and answered the door and it was indeed housing. 

“Oh, sorry, I have this ID card I need to return? Is this you?” 

“No, that’s my roommate.”

“Oh, okay, well here you go. Sorry if I woke you up or something.”

“No. You didn’t wake me up. Of course not. All the lights are off, I have dark circles around my eyes and I look like I want to kill you because we were having a party.” 

I went and put the ID card on the roomie’s desk. She had slept through my lovely conversation but now she woke up. 

“Did someone just knock on our door?”

“Yes. They brought your ID back. The one you lost.”

Queue an absolute freak out of excitement.

“Oh, thank goodness! Oh, yes! Thank the Lord!” 

I got back in bed and she was silent for a few minutes.

“I don’t know if that really scared me or if I am just so excited that they found my ID!….Well, I’m going back to sleep!” 

Queue the roomie promptly passing out again.

This morning, I was sitting at my desk doing my makeup when she woke up. 

“Did someone knock on our door last night?”


“Did they bring my ID card back?”


“So…that was real life?”

Ladies and gentlemen, the most wonderful roommate in the history of ever. She never fails to make me smile.


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