Did you know that every night you lay down, you explode a grenade of grossness into your sheets?

And jammies?

When I heard an FYI report about “how we all need to wash our pajamas”, I experienced one of those involuntary head cocks that’s become synonymous with the rhetorical cascade of questions I seem to have at least once a day now when I turn on my T.V. or indulge the sidebar of Facebook. (“This is news? How? And why? And who is this ‘news’ to? Who doesn’t know that not washing the pajamas you sleep sweat into is pretty much disgusting and you’re unleashing a miscellany of germs like a fleet of krakens each evening?”) Apparently, plenty’a people don’t. And – less surprisingly – the majority seem to be dudes. It’s funny because I just happened upon this after having a conversation with my mom about what happens when she doesn’t get a chance to do the laundry of the grown ass men with whom she lives. The way she describes their reaction upon realizing they have to wash ther own clothes isn’t a far cry from someone who just got shitcanned or a “Dear John” letter. (But, to be fair, if I was the one tasked do to their laundry their reaction would be far, far worse. Like shitcanning me. From life.)

So is that it? Are the men who recycle their petri dish pajamas on the regular just waiting for a kitchen dwelling spouse to replace their mom and do it? And are the women who do it just disgusting subhuman creatures who have zero excuse because this is the 50’s and we should know how to do our laundry plus everyone else’s? Should maybe everyone just wash their own fckking clothes unless you’re a homemaker whose biggest job decision each day is whether to do a kundalini class or a craniosacral massage while your spouse is off baking up another billion? (No sexism there – that could be any gender combo).

I’d say the solution’s to just sleep naked, but unless you wash your sheets a lot, that’s even worse. Because: dust mites. These greedy little bastards love dining on your discarded dermal cells. And the thought of makings skin-to-jaw contact with them is kinda making my skin itch just thinking of it. That’s probably why I do wash my sheets every week – the Marilyn Monroe sleepwear’s my personal fave.

But not everyone’s so hygienically diligent about their bed’s duds.

A recent survey done observed that people reported changing their sheets not even once a month.

Thing about that is that I’m pretty sure bed bugs violate the “don’t shit where you eat rule” (and the “don’t die where you eat” rule). So, like, if they’re all building up their numbers and you don’t bother scrubbing ‘em out every so often, then you being ingested ain’t the only bad thing happening. You’re also ingesting them – through your face holes. Because they shed just like you, you’re constantly breathing in a steady cocktail of creepy crawlers’ cast-off and crap. Delicious, right?

Y’know – I just realized how disgusting this means putting someone “in the doghouse” is. It’s like exiling your significant other into utter squalor. ‘cause the guy not only isn’t gonna get his laundry washed, but he’s also sleeping on a couch – which you can’t just throw in the washer. And, in a way, if you sit on that couch during the day, you’re marinating in it too and breathing in bed bug remnants till it’s a literal “cut off your nose” sitch. Or your nose’s supply of uninfected air, at least.

Gross.

So, wash your bed clothes and clothes you wear to bed weekly and daily, respectively.

Or, ya know, you could just never sleep to avoid the invisible fleet of Freddy Kruegers awaiting you.