My darling husband decided to treat me for all the long hours I've been putting in at work. He purchased a lovely set of flannel sheets on which to rest my restless head (I'm going through a very bad spell of not sleeping and weird dreams; was chalking it up to stress but after consulting with the doc who keeps me somewhat hormonally balanced, it's a change in, of all things, my thyroid meds).
B.O.B. thought I would be especially thrilled since the sheets were in the most luscious shade of pink. The sheets seemed to gently call out, "come and rest your soul on our soft flannel warmth and envelope yourself in a cotton candy dreamland."
The sheets were nice and cozy. Until I walked back into the bedroom the next morning - with sunlight streaming in -- and noticed just how PINK the sheets actually are.
I'm thinking the only thing missing is a poster of Justin Bieber hanging over my bed and a stack of Tiger Beat magazines on my nightstand.