But what's even better is when you get to the end of the huge container of laundry soap, and it's time to buy a new one. That's when I like to fuck with my nose and get a DIFFERENT laundry soap. Then, for a good two weeks, it's like I'm wearing someone else's clothes, sleeping in someone else's bed... it's a mind game I like to play with myself.
Recently, the end of the soap container time came around, and I picked up a new container. Late one night, as I am usually up pretty late, I noticed it was really cold out, and as I tend to leave my window cracked open just a bit so I won't completely acclimate to the California weather, I decided it was time to break out the flannel comforter cover (Duvet? I dunno).
This was at 2AM. So off I went to find the box it had been stashed in since I left Massachusetts. It was located quickly, and put into the wash with the new soap. Mmmmmm, my nose was tingling in anticipation of nuzzling down into a new scented flannel happy place all night.
So I sat at my computer and worked on random stuff like Moron Life and catching up on LJ and all that until the wash was done. Then came drier time. It was now getting on to be around 2:30 in the morning ish, and I was starting to headbob a little.
But I kept up until the buzzer on the drier let me know that my flannel was now warm and dry.
The race to the bedroom was exhilirating. I had taken the old comforter cover off and put it in the laundry pile prior to this, so the only thing I had to do was put the new one on, turn off the light, and climb into bed, surrounded by right-out-of-the-drier-new-smelly goodness.
And it was GLORIOUS. The room was freakin cold, but I was wrapped in a little sheet of heaven.
It was in the wee hours of the morning, when I was completely wrapped in flannel goodness, though, that I made my biggest mistake.
When it gets really chilly, I pull the comforter over my head and burrow way down under the covers to revel in the warmth. What I wasn't counting on, though, is wrapping the comforter so tightly around myself that I couldn't readily extract myself from within. And as the sun rose, I inadvertently gave myself a Dutch Oven. Let me tell you, no matter how good the comforter smells, all memory of it is erased when you wake up to that. Oy veh.
So let that be a lesson to you, children. Always have an escape route. Always.
Recovering from the trauma