It's like sleeping under a bear
Having just dug a test trench, I have discovered that over the course of this winter my bedding has evolved to the point that it contains no fewer than six distinct archaeological strata (seven if you count the towel on the end of the bed for the cat):
The result is a hideous lump of blankets that looks nothing like the beautifully layered beds in Pottery Barn catalogs and it’s absolutely perfect.
(I've also got ten count 'em ten pillows to lounge against, making this bed the grandest mess of poof and comfortable ever, but to be fair I only actually sleep with three.)
(Now if only I had freshly shaven legs and fresh sheets to match, then this would be heaven.)
- top sheet
- soft pink comforter from my childhood
- duvet (with cover)
- festive quilt first put on as a Christmas decoration
- sweatshirt-material throw (to pull up over my shoulder and face should they get chilly)
- soft black comforter from college
The result is a hideous lump of blankets that looks nothing like the beautifully layered beds in Pottery Barn catalogs and it’s absolutely perfect.
(I've also got ten count 'em ten pillows to lounge against, making this bed the grandest mess of poof and comfortable ever, but to be fair I only actually sleep with three.)
(Now if only I had freshly shaven legs and fresh sheets to match, then this would be heaven.)