The Great Comforter Catastrophe

 

We take many things for granted in life – health, shelter, water, food, and yes… comforters. I’ve been on a quest for a new one for months and you’d think I was pursuing the Hope Diamond or Ark of the Covenant. Why is Comforter Land playing such hardball this time? Has bedding changed or have I?

The problem seemed easy: I’d find a pretty bed cover. It would be delivered and I’d love it.

Instead, things went horribly wrong.

I ordered the first one, received it, and rejoiced. The fabric was plush and soft, but with enough heft to get us through winter. I loved the warm taupe color. I placed it on top of the sheets. Done.

Two mornings later I was sipping tea in bed when I looked down at my arms and gasped. They were covered in red, angry-looking hives. So were my legs and torso.

“My God!” I said to my husband, Randy. “What’s happening??!” He looked aghast, like I’d just contracted beri beri. Then I remembered. I had loved this new comforter so much I had skipped the usual first wash. Maybe I was allergic to some chemical used in treating the fabric.

That morning, using rubber gloves, I pulled the spread off the bed and back into its box. Thank God, the rash went away in days, and I returned the comforter — from then on known as the evil comforter – back to whence it came.

The second one arrived a few weeks later. I had seen it in a catalog, loving its earthy “jute-colored” fabric in a minimalist style.

At first all seemed fine. The box was big as most are, but when I went to move it toward the master bedroom, it wouldn’t budge. And I mean…it wouldn’t budge. An uneasy feeling descended. How heavy was this thing?

I finally had to ask my son Paul to help push it. Even my 26-year old who works in a commercial kitchen and lifts heavy objects every day, struggled under the weight of this…blanket? What did they put in this for stuffing? Lead? Rocks? Cement? Would I have to feed and water it once a week?

In the master bedroom, Paul and I extricated it from the box (to much huffing and puffing) and lay it on the bed. Winded, I looked it over, expecting something chic and minimalistic. Instead, I found an army-issue pup tent from World War I retrofitted into a sad, depressing comforter-like… thing.

Since Paul and I didn’t have the will to pull this creature off and cram it back into its box, Randy and I slept under it that night. This was one of those times my husband came into bed later, so I was interested to see if he’d notice anything “different.” (That’s the good thing about men. They can be oblivious to this stuff).

“What the hell is this!!?” was the first thing he said the next morning, grimacing and poking at the burlap-like fabric. “I feel like I’m in lock-up.”

Another return it was. Thank God, the department store was close by. And even though I bought the comforter online, there was no refund for shipping — which judging by its size and heft – would’ve cost millions of dollars. So for the price of nachos at the food court, I bribed poor beleaguered Paul to once again, help me lug this thing back to the store.

The third comforter had to be the charm, I decided.

This one I bought at one of those upscale bedding shops. Within days it arrived. And when I gave the box that all-important “push” test to the master bedroom, it glided like silk. Phew.

I lay the comforter on the bed and inspected, ready to fall in love, but something felt off, something I couldn’t put my finger on. This comforter was the right size, the right weight. It was well made. Then I figured out what was wrong. If the other “prison camp” comforter was too sad, this one was too… happy?

The colors were a little too bright, the pattern too earnest and eager. My God, since when did I need emotional nuance in my bedding?

I tried to return it, but was told it would cost $70. Then I called the company and a lovely woman said if I left the package on my front porch, UPS would take it, free of charge.

And that’s where it sits now, this large cardboard box outside, taunting me, a testament to my inability to perform the most basic task.

I know my comforter is out there somewhere. But where? And when I finally find it, I can promise you this, I’ll never take bedding for granted again.

 

 

Have you had trouble finding the perfect… something? Comments are always welcome and if you liked, please share.

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