Hope springs eternal

I've been rearranging our room with an eye toward "Old Havana meets the Han Dynasty." We had this hideous pink comforter cover (it used to be burgundy--I'm not really a "pink" gal) so I went and bought this new one. Do you know how hard it is to find nice duvets for not that much money? If you don't want to go with LL Bean plaids, expect to pay more. Anyhoo, I found this cover which speaks to my Old Havana side: Big ol' banana leaves and birds of paradise on an ivory field. Very "Hemingway getting drunk and passing out in his hotel after too many Mojitos while the band plays softly on." I love it.

I knew when I bought it that there were two problems. One: Dry clean only. Now, I've taken a pretty good look at it's construction, and I think this is an unnecessary, perhaps price-fixing ploy to get all of us hooked on dry cleaning. I actually think this is true for much of dry-cleaningdom. For instance, why does that cotton shirt need dry cleaning? Because before I bought it on deep-discount it was sitting in (or near) the more rarified air of Donna Karan and Calvin? 'Cause that's the only reason I can see.

The second problem. The second problem required more blinders/ostrich behavior on my part, namely the deep-seated hope that (a) our BLACK cats would both refrain from jumping on the bed and stop shedding on the mostly IVORY cover altogether and (b) our child would of course never make a mess (poop, spit up, spill grape NeHi) on/near/under the bed.

I'm afraid those dreams have already been dashed. If we have experienced the failure of (a) at so early a stage and with such a resounding defeat, I can only imagine what will happen with (b).

But perhaps there is a bright side. After all the spills and stains that will mount up in what appears to be no time at all, our bedroom will really feel like Old Havana after a few too many with Papa Hemingway.