It started with me thinking I was doing a good thing. It ended with me kicking myself.
Fall’s colder temperatures prompted me to pull our duvet out of storage. As I spread it over the bed, I noticed the top edge was dirtier than the rest of it. After all, that’s the area hands clutch in order to pull the duvet higher, for added, cozy comfort! It’s also the part of the duvet most likely to be exposed to wandering dog paws!
No problem. In a burst of wondrous initiative, I decided to pull the duvet off the bed and bring it to the dry cleaner! Later the same day, oozing an industrious tone, I told my wife I’d brought the duvet to the dry cleaner. She sounded surprised, wondering why I hadn’t simply stuffed it into the washing machine. Aghast at the image her suggestion had conjured up in my mind, of feathers cluttered in one corner of a lopsided duvet, I told her, industrious tone still intact, I didn’t want it to lose its shape.
Then, quite matter-of-factly, she told me it’s not a feather-filled duvet, it’s just a regular machine-washable comforter. I insisted, with industrious tone quickly fizzling, it’s heavy like a real duvet and hot like a real duvet. She reminded me again, it’s not a real duvet.
Who the heck’s picking up my memos?
I just picked up the dud duvet at the dry cleaners this morning. It cost $33.16, which I could have used to buy three boxes of detergent and two boxes of fabric softener sheets!
When I told her how much it cost to dry clean the dud duvet, Susan seemed to find it funny. With industrious tone shrivelled and no longer detectable, trying to come to terms with my cluelessness, I told her on the phone last night, by deciding to dry clean the dud duvet, I was trying to to a good thing. She replied, sweetly, “You did do a good thing; you just did the wrong good thing.”