Sleep Walking

So it turns out that I sleep walk. I always thought that this kind of stuff didn't really exist, but here I am and I sleep walk.

It seems to happen when I'm emotionally perplexed, physically exhausted, or going through some sort of withdrawl because I have attempted to give up one of my many vices. This week, it's espresso. Did I give it up? God no. I just ran out.

My sleep walking has a food aspect that is quite hilarious if you're not me. It appears that I like to go to the kitchen, get the most unhealthy of foods, and simply bring them back to bed. Not the nightstand, not the dresser, not anywhere but in the bed with me. I am especially fond of chocolate in these instances.

Now you have the information you need to picture and imagine my horror when I woke up one Boxing Day morning with a Turtle stuck to the side of my head. In the morning, it no longer looks like a turtle.
"Who poohed on me in the night?"
"Where is that fat rat bastard cat?"
"It smells like chocolate though. Will you smell it?"

"I'm not smelling that Richelle, you smell it."


"But I can't smell my own head?!"

"I'm not smelling that. In fact, I'm not even sure I want to stay over night anymore."


"It smells like chocolate. Honest."