I'm really missing my nice broken in cotton sheets these days. The ones with the little purple and magenta pansies and green leaves printed on them with eyelet on the edge of the pillowcase. The ones that I would be putting on my bed in a month or two's time to go with spring coming about. And my electric blanket. On a cold winter's night that was my best friend.
But Cybertronians don't apparently use bedding, they just have their hard doctor's office bench like berths. And that word just feels so weird to say. I still can't help calling it a bed because that is what I want it to be.
I want to go home and sleep in my own bed. Surrounded by pictures and books and everything that fills my house and chronicled who I am. Was.
Officially back to my low point. And I can't even snuggle into a blanket or three to properly mope and/or comfort myself.
Bedding, only slightly less missed than food.
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