Epilogue...

So here it is. The duvet cover that nearly cost me my eternal soul.

It's blue. Really blue. Kind of a karate chop to the throat BLUE! But it matches the curtains. And as a bonus goes quite well with that lovely yonic painting above the bed. Not bad for $29.99.

In all likelihood, I will venture back to Ikea. You'll notice that rather smart looking rolltop desk in the corner (or as Peep Ian suggested I call it, an escritoire...but I don't think I need to give people yet another reason to pop me in the mouth). Shamed as I am to admit it, I sort of like having matching furniture. It makes me feel like a grown-up, which is certainly appropriate now that I'm 30. Replacing a perfectly functional bookcase and nightstand on the grounds of aesthetics is, in truth, a bit silly and comes with the risk of turning into one of those poser yuppie types. But you know what? Bite me.

So, in conclusion, the adventure of "Romancing the Duvet" was an overall success. A few trips through the washing machine, and it'll be as soft and pliable as George Bush's brain.

There is just one problem, however. A little technicality that hadn't crossed my mind upon purchase. There exists a cardinal rule regarding cat "ownership" and the procurement of home furnishings. In fact, growing up in a house full of cats, the most important question to address when buying a new sofa or replacing the carpet was "Will it show cat hair?" A point of contention I failed to consider. Observe:

Ah Dammit. Well, at least I have an in-house washing machine to cure hirsute linens. But you know, it's this kind of shit that makes me terrified that one day I'm going to meet a totally awesome dark-skinned man, and I'll have to dump him because he "shows too much cat hair".