One of the cons of baking a bun is that you are vying for the Most-Scatterbrained-AND-Clumsy-Person-Around medal of honour. I have walked into rooms and not remember why I walked into the room in the first place. I often accidentally nudge my bump around the edge of tables. The bun is fudging my center of gravity and wolfing down my brain cells. It is very disconcerting and freaky.
You know what else is disconcerting? Wanton dreams at dawn, which is quite rightly one of the pros.
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