I would pay extra for a dental hygienist who was comfortable with silence.

I once let a really short guy be the big spoon and it felt like I went to bed with a backpack on.

I love coming home and being at home and sitting inside my home and staying home.

Sex is cool but have you ever had your bed all to yourself.

A hot coffee and a crispy bagel doesn’t change anything but it can’t hurt.

Weight gain makes me sad. Luckily, eating cheers me right back up.

No one suddenly needs anything more than a kid whose mom has just sat down and gotten comfortable.

Looking for someone whose favorite thing to do is nothing. No hiking. No adventure. Just bed rot.

“Still gangsta” I whisper to myself as I drink my chamomile tea with a heating pad on my back.

Taking off my house pajamas to put on my errands pajamas.

Nothing says sexy like a pair of sensible, silky polka dot PJs.

Relationship status: I’m the only one wearing my hoodies.

Blocking isn’t enough, I hope your pillow never has a cold side.

The sound of rain outside when you’re in bed is elite.

In a relationship with my heated car seat.

Fuzzy socks on and ready for anything.

Relationship status: I love my bed.

Feeling like a bug without his rug.

One day you’re cool and then the next, you realize your favorite pair of pants are sweatpants from the grocery store.

My recliner and I go way back.