Conflict Between The Covers

It has been cold lately in The O-Town, also the The Boy Roommate has gone super environmentalist on the thermostat. In revenge, and pure savage search for warmth, I have stolen his girlfriend's, Anna's, comforter while she is in France. It is pink so he isn't using it. Pink, thick, foamy, soft, big, smells good, and oh oh so warm. Right now it is folded in two on top of my bed because I have a twin and it is a double duvet. Under it are my usual blankets. Ones that were made with love by family members. That have kept me warm through many winters in the past. A quilt made by my aunt, a big blue afghan knit by my late grandmother, and a multicoloured crocheted blanket my mom made. I know the pink comforter was bought. I know it was probably made overseas. I cuddle with it and think about Anna, who I miss dearly, but it still isn't filled with the love that the others hold. Oh, how I love that warm decadent duvet, but every time I crawl under it and smile a part of me dies a little as I realise that corporate America is probably winning with this. I'm torn, but for now I'm settling on both, since it is definitely cold enough here.