My sweetie and I have been experimenting with different bedding styles. We've gone the traditional bottom sheet/top sheet/bedspread route for most of our time together. Recently, however, it came to my attention that I am a cover grabber. I don't really believe this. But since once I close my eyes I am asleep, I can't very easily come to my own defense. I have to take the word of the person next to me with blue lips who is rolling me off his share of the blanket.
Looking for a good solution, Jack suggested we use a king sized top sheet. I had to wonder why we hadn't thought of this sooner. Except that the sheet drags the floor this solution has worked quite well.
Then I got a wild hair. I washed the linens from the top of the bed to the bottom. Even the mattrass pad. What's that all about? Fall cleaning? Sometimes when I do this, I get to feeling unruly and only re-make the bed half-way. I'm well into my 50's, yet sometimes still feel the need to rebel against my mother's long list of housekeeping rules. Risking a good night's rest without benefit of military cornered sheets, we went to sleep on a crisp clean bottom sheet covered only by a quilt.
A clean, good-smelling, well-broken in and comfy quilt. Yummmmm.
I love quilts. I love the feel and smell and history of old quilts. I love the feel and freshness and life to come of new quilts.
I could write pages about cutting up pieces of old or new fabric, then sewing the pieces back together to form a pretty pattern. But I won't. Suffice it to say, that a quilt is about as close to nirvana as it can get for me.
Unless you add a cat to the mix. Quilts and cats. Does it get any better than that?
On that note, I think I'll crawl into bed.
"A bed without a quilt is like a sky without stars."