The things that await me in hell…

After a traumatising experience last night, I have decided to put fingers to keyboard and tell all. It was horrible. I nearly rang The Samaritans at one point because I couldn’t see a way out. I’m talking, of course, about changing the duvet cover. Every year dozens of small people like me have nervous breakdowns at the thought of the King-size goosedown mountain that awaits me. I swear, my whole life flashed before my eyes at one point. But I’m a smart girl. I took my phone with me and had at least three friends on standby in case I got lost. Won’t fool me twice…

So most people have a system. Turn the cover inside out, then grab the furthermost corners one in each hand, connect them to the ends of your duvet and follow through accordingly. Fair enough. If you have arms long enough. I’ve tried this way and I just end up looking like a blind deflated Casper the Friendly Ghost, lost in a sea of cotton, wandering around the room bumping into things and crying hysterically. I’ve never felt smaller than when I try and put a fresh duvet cover on.

I got lost en route three times. No joke. The first time I managed to turn the cover inside out and didn’t realise till it was all done and on the bed. Rage. The second time I succeeded in somehow managing to twist the bloody thing 180 degrees, and being the obsessive-compulsive eejit that I am, I couldn’t stand the thought that the tag of the duvet would be anywhere other than at the bottom. I could envision myself falling into a downward spiral of panic and entanglement, I even had to take a time-out and assess the situation at one point. But I remembered my breathing. kept an eye on the big picture, and eventually I was victorious in the battle of Midget versus Cover. Until next time.

This is why I believe, that if there is a hell, it’ll be a sea of duvets and duvet covers all awaiting their union – and I’m the only one left to do it. Ugh. There’s also a department in hell for bowls of dried-in muesli and no hot water to rinse them – just a matted old plastic dish washer brush and some crappy cheapo sudsy stuff. But that’s another story.

About JayRow

Singer, songwriter, student radio broadcaster, teacher, commitment-phobe, depressive, loudmouth, Facebook obsessive, blogging addict, celebrity hassler, professional stalker, pipe dreamer, ambitious young thing!
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One Comment

  1. I’d like to say I know your pain of the duvet cover but I don’t. I’m big. I always win the battle. However, cheap sudsy stuff that is not Fairy Liquid is my nemesis. Why bother?! If it ain’t Fairy then I’m not washing up.

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