Soft Sheets and a Comfy Bed

Until last year, I had carried around lots of furniture hand-me-downs from place to place. Then, after 10 years in the same place, without replacing any of those hand-me-downs, it was time. I was overdue. And I was moving.

In addition to custom ordering a sofa set in red, I bought a pillow-top queen size mattress. My old full size mattress, with broken springs threatening to make Swiss cheese out of me, I left on the street and called Public Works to pick up. The moment was bittersweet. Okay, minds out of the gutter! It had nothing to do with memories in the bed. It had to do with the fact that I had accumulated a linen closet full of wonderful, full size sheets. High thread count, washed and worn sheets. Soft sheets, acquired over time, with a bargain shopper's diligence to indulge my champagne taste on a beer budget. I knew buying new ones would be an expense and getting them worn in, a daunting task....Unless, of course, I only have one or two sets that I wash a lot to get them worn in...and since that's all I can afford...Brilliant. Win win.

Even before the sheets had enough washes to feel worn-in soft, my new bed was infinitely more comfortable than the old one. (Why I wouldn't swap out a few pairs of shoes and dinners out for a new mattress years before, I don't know. My only defense is that my old bedroom would not have fit a larger bed well. Weak argument, I know.) Now that the two sets of sheets I have are perfectly soft, sleep is a new experience. Not only do I wake up feeling restored and rejuvenated, but also I get into bed as if I am doing something beyond decadent--without a bonbon in sight. I look forward to going to sleep: tucking in, turning my TV on and setting the timer to go off in a 1/2 hour or so.

Last night, I caught myself doing something I normally reserve for snow days. (And do I love snow days!) At 5:30 or so, when I am normally getting into the shower, but my call has come down the phone tree that we have a snow day, I get back into bed and giggle like a school girl. Literally. I smile and say tee hee hee as I crawl back in bed. Last night, I closed my windows to keep out the frosty air, set my alarm clock, turned on the TV to watch the last bit of the debate, then got into bed and said tee hee hee. I reminded myself the forecast called for frost, not snow. Then I said it again.