Here’s one of those stories that my friend Michael claims can only happen to me. I believe he says that with love, but I wouldn’t bet anything on it.
This weekend I was out doing some returning (and purchasing) when I called home to check on things. I spoke with Rich (he, remarkably, answered the phone. That is so rare that I almost hung up, sure that I had reached the wrong house) who literally told me not to come home without new sheets for our room. That, dear readers, is a testament to just how grungy ours had become. I assure you, Rich takes no notice of things like sheets until they have deteriorated to such a degree that he deems them embarrassing. (Yes, he described our sheets as embarrassing which begged the question: “embarrassing in front of whom?”) Armed with a pile of Bed Bath and Beyond coupons, off I went.
I spent well over an hour in the sheet department. I was giddy with what I deemed the carte blanch I had just been given over my mini bedroom makeover. Deciding I no longer had to settle for average sheets, I went for the gold — 1,000 thread count. I conferred with the “bedding specialist” who assured me that the hefty price tag was well worth it and that I would, after one night of heavenly sleep, never settle for anything less again.
I carefully chose my colors, added shams with a soft, comforting pattern, thought and rethought the combination and finally made my way to the register where I gleefully watched as the cashier scanned my 20 percent off coupons (some of which happened to be from the late Linens ‘N Things). Despite the discount, it was still the most I’ve ever spent on sheets in a single hit. I could hardly wait to get them into the washing machine and settle in for a delicious slumber.
Rich oohed and aahed over my choices. He even helped me unwrap all the packages and threw it in the washing machine for me. Our excitement was palpable. Pathetic, but palpable. So you can imagine my disappointment when I took everything out of the dryer and the sheets well, the sheets sucked. They were scratchy. They were thick. They mocked the very concept of high thread count equals yummy sheets. Undeterred, I made up the bed thinking, although I have no idea why, that they would feel better once they had been put on the bed. They didn’t. Then, just to add insult to injury, I realized that the beautifully appointment shams, while still beautiful, were standard sized and my pillows are king. Damn. I shoved the pillow in, my sadness growing, and decided I had just thrown away a lot of money.
Night one on the new sheets only added to my dismay. And sore neck. My otherwise swell pillow, when shoved into a too small cover, now sucked. And hurt my neck. And kept me up all night. And tortured me with the reality that, as previously mused, I had just thrown away a lot of money. Night two did nothing to allay any of the aforementioned phenomenons. Not a damned thing. (My mother in law told me I needed to wash them in scalding hot water and use two dryer sheets. Something told me it was bigger than all that. I was right.)
So, this morning, down and defeated, I wrapped everything back up in the original packaging, put it all in the ginormous Bed Bath and Beyond bag and decided to try to bring it all back. They could not have been more accommodating. It was shocking, actually. (And, as anyone who knows me will attest, a little disappointing. I love a little “fight”) Their policy, the gal behind the counter told me, was to take anything back that the customer didn’t like. (Good to know)(Really good to know). Off I went to a different “bedding specialist”, found a far superior (and cheaper) set and was on my way. (Another good to know? They gave me the 20 percent off again!)
From there I hurried home to get the new sheets in the wash so that tonight I would have the sleep I have been, well, dreaming of. Following an appointment, and prior to picking Georgie up at school I stopped back at the house to put everything in the dryer. I was leaving nothing to chance. I was a woman obsessed.
Finally the time came to put my new bed together. Again. I delighted at the softness of the pillowcases (this time the correct size) as I put them on my pillows. Then, with a flourish, I shook the fitted sheet over the mattress and pulled the first corner down. Hmmm, that’s odd, I thought King beds were square – why, then, is this far corner not reaching to the end of the bed? Assuming I was a moron, I turned it around and gave it another try. Son of a bitch…this is not going to fit! And then I saw it. The little white tag on the inside of the sheet that said, clear as day, Queen. Are you fucking kidding me? Again assuming I had made the same mistake with the sheets as I had with the shams, I grabbed (yes, grabbed is the right word) the packaging for a sanity check. King. Couldn’t be clearer. Excellent.
I will admit, but am not proud, that I was fit to be tied. I also considered weeping. Instead I called the store, told them the story and asked them to go open another similarly (mis)labeled package, take out the fitted sheet and check the damn thing. They did and they are holding it for me. When I will be able to get there is anyone’s guess.
So tonight I get to enjoy a few new pillowcases and will just have to dream about the full package…
