Roasting . . . sweaty . . . get these blankets off of me . . . doze . . . dream . . . chilly . . . cold . . . damp sheets . . . where are the blankets? . . . shiver . . . snuggle . . . warmer . . . dozing . . . dreamy . . . muggy . . . sticky . . . off with the blankets . . . stare at the darkness . . . tossing . . . turning . . . sleepy . . . . dozy . . . what time is it? . . . squinting . . . brr . . . eww . . . damp . . . cold . . . find those blankets again . . . and so it goes all night long . . .
Clearly that lonely ovary isn't doing much good. I guess I better make that appointment and get it out of there.
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