waking in my birthday suit...

yes, today's post will be about me being naked.  no, there will not be pictures so don't bother scrolling down. a little bit of background information, i am not a fan of hanging out in my birthday suit.  i don't sleep nude, i don't walk around my house nude, i don't hang out nude ever.  well not on purpose anyway.  if there was a way to stay dressed in the shower and still get clean, i would do it.  that is how much i dislike being nude.  it's safe to say you aren't going to find me nude at a nude beach, streaking for the heck of it, or randomly exposing my bits.

my dislike for being nude has nothing to do with the way i look.  occasionally i do a once over the mirror and i don't have to shield my eyes from the horror looking back at me.  i would say there is always room for improvement, but overall the aging process is being kind.  my dislike is fairly simple, it's cold.  i am generally cold, outside of a super hot day, a hot shower/bath, or a romp in the sack, you will probably hear me say i'm cold.  my hands and feet usually feel like popsicles, i wear goosebumps like an accessory, and i physically shiver from frequent episodes of the chills.

now that you know all of this about me

how on earth did i find myself waking in my birthday suit?

it isn't the result of some afternoon escapade in the bedroom.  it isn't the result of a black out night fueled by too much alcohol and poor choices.  it is simply the result of time catching up with me.

sunday morning, was the fourth year of running the st. pattys day dash with my girlfriends.  each year we wake at an ungodly hour, for a weekend, adorn ourselves in ridiculous amounts of green, and journey to the big city.  with 13,000+ runners all decked out in their finest greenery, this is a sight to behold. 

at 8:40, our heat crossed the start line for an almost 4 mile run in the city.  sunday's weather was downpour rain, not super surprising seeing that it is washington, but we have had a dry year, this just wasn't one of them. we snaked through the city streets in our sloshy shoes taking in all the crazy costumes people come up with, talking, and yes doing a bit of running. our post race tradition, brings us to a local brewery where the adults rehydrate with a beer and our entire party refuels with all the wrong types of food.

up until this point my energy levels were running high.  i'm pretty sure a combination of race adrenaline, camaraderie with friends, and the temporary high from food and drink contributed to my energy level.  however, once i got home, stripped out of my rain drenched smelly race clothes, and headed to shower i could feel my energy quickly dropping.  the hot massage of water pounding my tired muscles only perpetuated my downward spiral.   

stepping out of the shower, i realized i had forgotten my tired pink robe, so i wrapped up in my towel, moseyed downstairs, and took a pit stop on my leather couch to listen to a voicemail from my dad.  it is here that everything caught up to me.  i don't actually remember laying down, maybe i didn't, maybe i nodded off sitting up and eventually slumped into a laying position. regardless of how i got there, i definitely remember waking up.

i woke up shivering, clammy and stuck to the leather of my couch, drool trickling from my mouth, and my hair, a colossal disaster.  my towel was still with me, but not around me anymore.  after looking around a little bit, because i was confused on why i was naked on my couch, i peeled myself off the leather and got dressed.

it really isn't that great of a story, but it is making me rethink why i have leather couches.  leather couches are cold in the winter.  you stick to them in the summer.  they scratch up if you have pets or unruly children.  depending on the quality of the leather they can be noisy.  when you fart the couch acts as an amplifier.  and did i mention that they are cold?  outside of looking nice, leather couches are dumb.