I got 99 problems, but fluff ain't one

If you do not already know me, I- like most people- am chock full of problems.  Don't lie, you have them too, as does Brangelina and even the saintly T-Swift.  So instead of talking (typing?) your ear off about issues I have, let me tell you a little bit about something that I have in abundance and makes my life better, softer, and an all around safe and wonderful place to exist: fluffy stuff.

This might turn into a mini confession of a moderate hoarder, but hear me out: fuzzy things have never, or maybe rarely, hurt anyone.  Last time I checked, fuzziness was not one of the seven deadly sins (this I know for my other blog doth tell me so) and I'm not blasphemously praying to the holy grail of Pillow Pets, so I'm morally and ethically in the clear, here.  However, I want to invite you to take a glimpse into my world of fluff, for two reasons.  1) To brag about all my fluff-tastic glory, and 2) To hopefully connect with other fuzzy fanatics who may not feel like they have anywhere else to turn.  If you, or someone you love struggles with fuzzy addictions like I, please have them contact me and I can point them in the right direction.

Anyway, without further adieu, here's a glimpse into my eccentric, but very soft and plushy, universe…

I can't have pets in my apartment, but once I move,
you are first on my list, fluffy bunny.  Numero uno.

Fluffy Socks

I can't get enough of these bad boys.  What started as a once in awhile fuzzy little secret for my feet has now evolved into a stage four wardrobe dilemma each morning from the months of November to March.  I love boots, and what pairs nicely with boots?  FLUFFY SOCKS MY FRIEND.  FLUFFY.  SOCKS.  I can't take the time to properly introduce you to all umpteen pairs of them, but they run the gamut from Harry Potter grippy socks, to Christmas geese, to simple color block patterns.  It's honestly gotten so bad that I don't even look at the patterns before I don them, a quandary I noticed recently when Andrew discovered my "Fluffy Santa Socks" were actually the aforementioned geese socks.  This may or may not be a cry for help.

Here's the kicker, though.  I now wage war against my outfits each morning in an attempt to properly incorporate fluffy socks into it.  "No, self, I can't wear reasonable slacks today, because that would require trouser socks and those just aren't fluffy enough, okay?!?!"  

Some people need coffee to rid themselves of their morning persona. 

I am not some people, and I need fluff.

I don't own these, so why am I posting them?
Maybe I have a birthday in February…and maybe I don't.

Fuzzy Clothes

This fuzzy fetish is a lot more manageable, as I am a big sweater fanatic.  Love the sweaters.  In fact, I have sweaters in just about every color imaginable.

Just the tip of the iceberg, my friends.

I didn't want to brag and have everyone develop ROY G BIV sweater envy, so I just posted these seven, for you to get a brief sample.  Anyway, I also have multiple pairs of fuzzy jammies, one of which was also haphazardly thrown onto my body without inspecting the pattern (creating confusion when I asked Andrew to get me my "heart jammies" when in reality they had moons and stars on them).

Before you ask, yes, I indeed know what pattern this is.  Go, go Power Rangers!

One thing that, up until two weeks ago, I did NOT have was fuzzy footie pajamas.  I can't adequately describe the joy I received upon opening this gift, other than to inform you that I literally just sobbed.  I cried for a solid two minutes and hugged them and just yelled about how soft they were.  Seriously, SO SOFT.  Let's not even get into the fact that the feet are removable for easy access, and have grippy bottoms, because I just can't even go there right now.  Too many feels involved.

It's ok to be jealous…I would be too.

Stuffed Animals

As a 27 year old adult, I am proud to admit that I not only still own stuffed animals, but I shamelessly snuggle them quite frequently.  Most of them are penguins, but I'm definitely non-discriminate.  I've got alligators, octopi, puppy dogs, bunnies, and gads more not seen on my bed.  There's just something about having a fluffy object in the vicinity that makes the whole sleeping process go much more smoothly.

This is me about 43% of the time...

Dryer Lint

If you thought this was a weird fuzz addiction before, promptly desist reading at this point, thank you.  Before you judge the bejeezus out of me, no I don't collect dryer lint and form it into shapes in order to share them on Facebook and caption them.

My life has hit a new low.

I'm super embarrassed, you guys.  As I started typing that last statement I genuinely thought that I had never done it until the above photo crept back into my mental abyss.  Le sigh.  I really am beyond help.

Anyway, I don't even really remember/know where this post was going, but I wanted to let it be known, world, that I have a fluff fanaticism.  

But if you havin' fluff problems, I feel bad for you, son.  Because my fluff problems are equivalent to none.