Monday, September 13, 2010

Dazzled by my Duvet

Duvet Way back in 1995, Hubby and I took a trip to England and learned the joys of sleeping under a duvet.  My mother had been telling me for years I would like it, but being an obstinate daughter, I didn't listen.

Whoa!  I'm not too proud to say I was wrong.

I was WRONG.  She was right. I loved it.  No more heavy blankets. Just one light and fluffy down comforter to keep you toasty warm on the coldest winter night, and not overly hot on a summer's eve.

I've got two of them and alternate them on the bed.  I must say that the old one, which is pretty lightweight, is still the better of the two comforters.  But they both have the same problem:  the feathers get jammed in the baffles on one area of the bed.  The middle.

George Why is it that a couple buys a king-sized bed because they want to sleep in comfort and then allow their pets to sleep with them.  It wasn't my idea.  For the first half of our marriage we were happily pet free at night.  But then we got George the tiny terrorist, who beat up all the older bigger cats and the next thing you know, the cat he beat up the most was in bed with us, because that's the only way he was safe.

Sadly, George was my one cat failure.  No matter what we tried, he would NOT fit in.  So we found him a forever home with a wonderful lady and her resident cat, who George has not attacked in the six years they've lived together.  Go figure!

Cats on duvet But now that Chester was ensconced, we left the door open at night should he hear the call of nature.  And now we have THREE cats sleeping with us.  Here we two humans are forced to cling to the edges of the bed while three cats sprawl out wherever they please.  And since all the feathers in the duvet seem to end up in the middle, that's where they are most comfortable.

So, come winter, I tend to bring a big beach towel to bed with me, because at least 1/4 of me is not going to have any of that warm and (somewhat) fluffy
Popscicle duvet and what I do have does not have any feathers and I feel like a Popsicle.

No yogi gave me a mantra, but I have one anyway:  I love my cats.  I love my cats.  I love my cats . . .