I did it. I gave in. I caved.
Snuggies AND the added bonus of a book light if I ordered within the next 30 seconds. $35 and one week later, a UPS man came bounding up the stairs of my office with an unnecessarily massive box.
When I told Hastings of my purchase, I proceeded to be an audience of one to his little comedy routine about what an idiotic, stupid purchase I'd made. And that I'd gotten two Snuggies? My God, I'm surprised he didn't hang up on me. "What do you need two Snuggies for?"
"Well, I'll never wear one."
"Fine. Don't. Freeze on my couch while I'm toasty warm. See if I care."
"This is quite possibly the dumbest thing you've ever done."
I highly doubt that.
My co-worker, Amanda graciously modeled the Snuggie for me as I realized it's merely one big square of fleece with two arms. I could easily make this in colors and patterns much more fabulous than the offered burgundy, royal blue or sage. The sage is what I bought, incidentally, because I though it'd look so cute on Hastings. Well screw him!
I headed up to my folks' last night as they'd be out, what with their lives and lecture tickets and decided to curl up in my Snuggie, or as my father calls it, "Sleepie" and watch 2 movies. The first was recommended by an Anonymous reader yesterday and, Oh My God. We'll be discussing Dear Zachary soon. You can all watch it on Netflix Watch Instantly.
Then I watched A Certain Kind of Death. This documentary about what happens to people who die with no next of kin is incredibly fascinating. And of course, my immediate concern is what if I die with no next of kin.
After I finished the movies, I sat up in the TV Room with my tea and pondered my burial plans and poorly attended memorial service. My loving parents, who will probably predecease me, arrived home, coming in to kiss me hello and mock me in my Snuggie.
"Mom, I just watched this documentary called A Certain Kind of Death and..."
"Here we go."
"And I'm going to die alone in a sad studio apartment and no one will find me until the neighbors complain about a foul odor! And rigor mortis will set in and when they have to move me onto the gurney, my arms and legs will stick out like this!"
I crawled on the floor in my Snuggie and demonstrated. My mother, with her husband and retirement fund and two adult children laughed at me.
"What about Fernando?"
"Who the hell is Fernando?"
"Your true love."
"Fernando?!? You've named him Fernando?!?! Jesus Christ! Mom, I am 31 years old watching movies involving burials at sea alone on a Thursday night at my parents' house in a fucking sage green Snuggie I bought based on an infomercial. I wouldn't hold your breath on this Fernando character."
My mother looked down at me, still on the floor in my death pose.
"Are you having fun?"
"Oh yeah, I'm in heaven..."