I was watching something last night–I don’t know what it was–and it suddenly occurred to me:
People on TV have the best bed linens ever.
Like, even the lower middle class folks, or the working class couples, or the struggling artists–the ones living in apartments five times the size they could actually afford in Manhattan–have foot-thick duvets with matching pillow shams and dust ruffles and throwpillows and crap crappity crap crap. To those of us sleeping under Wal-Mart comforters and resting our heads on pillows we’ve had since we were bed-wetting age, it’s a bizarre logic to follow.
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