Thursday, October 21, 2010

Shoulda stood in bed

Waking up this morning was tough. The window was open, cool air filled our room, the sheets (glorious 500-count bamboo sheets, how I love you!) and comforter were the perfect weight and warmth, the pillows had conformed to the precise right shape and loft.

So, when the alarm went off, it got snoozed. ONCE. The second time it went off, it got shut off and the 'eff that' button got pushed, and HARD. Which is why it was very much later when I finally crawled out of bed.

Yes, it is a work at home day, why do you ask?

With a prep time of 0 minutes and a commute of 2 minutes, or the time it takes to boot up the computer, rolling out of bed at 9 isn't the liability it would otherwise be if I was expected to present body and soul to the Gods of the Cubicle. 'S verynice.

It's wonderful to have a job that allows the work at home thing to happen. On those weeks when the Things are with their Dad, and we don't have to be out the door at 7:30 to drop them off at school, working at home can be almost leisurely, like a little vacation almost despite being spent in front of the same computer facing a similar list of tasks.

At least it's a different chair my butt is at risk of growing into.


I mentioned a comforter above, as I'm sure you recall. What a nice word, comforter. It says what it does, which is neat.

Another good word is duvet. Doo-vey, baby, a fluffy confection of goose down piled between two layers of fabric, then (as you see here-->) the feathers are kept in place by some well-placed quilting. Duvets are wonderful for cooler weather, providing tons of warmth without a lot of weight, a good thing for those of use who suffer from 'trapped toes' syndrome, that uncomfortable feeling when your feet are weighed down by tucked-in sheets and heavy blankets. Duvets help folks avoid TTS, which is just one of the valuable services they provide.

Duvets, in other words, are lovely things. Expensive lovely things, it should be noted, and so care must be taken with them to keep them in good shape for a very long time indeed.

For example, sometimes they need to be cleaned, and this is a tricky proposal. Down needs special care, as it can clump and not dry completely, which can lead to mold and other icky stuff that you do not want happening to your 400 dollar coverlet. So ,when a duvet needs to be cleaned, the experts say to take them to a dry cleaner, who have experience in such things.

So, we did.

And when we unwrapped the duvet after its cleaning by the experts, we found that maybe the folks we took our lovely expensive duvet to are not experts at all, or maybe their expertise is in ruining expensive lovely duvets. What we got back was NOT a fresh-smelling confection of fluffy pillows containing newly-cleaned and lofted down, oh no. What we got back was (and I'm slightly sick thinking of it) a mishmashed conglomeration of random totally EMPTY pockets and others stuffed FULL of feathers, of partially filled areas, and torn seams. In short, what we got back was lumpy mess, utterly useless.

So we took it back. Rather, I took it back, and made it very very clear that I was deeply unsatisfied with what had happened to our lovely expensive duvet, and that they needed to fix it or make consideration toward helping us purchase a new one. Y'all, we didn't pay 35 freaking dollars to have them ruin our lovely expensive goose down duvet, because if I wanted to RUIN IT I could have done that myself very nicely, I'm sure.

The duvet was left at the shop, with a promise from them to call when the seamstress was done fixing it.

Weeks went by. No call.

Two weeks ago Biff went to the shop wanting to know why they hadn't called. Can you guess what they said? Well, if you guessed that they said "oh, we haven't looked at it yet (because someone just threw it up on a shelf and promptly forgot about it," you'd be right.

Biff let them know this was unacceptable, the counter kid agreed, apologized, and promised to have the seamstress work on it that week. Things were looking up, at last.

(You should hear ominous 'dun dun dun' music starting right about now...)

Last week we got a call from the dry cleaners, asking for our mailing address because 'they were unable to fix the duvet.'

- blink blink-

Yes, folks, they are going to MAIL us our duvet back and, apparently, wipe their hands of us. Because that is good business! That is how they get the good press!

Well, we are not giving them our mailing address. We will be going there in person. OK, clarification: Biff is going there in person, because every time I think about how they're willing to brush us and the ruin of our 400-freaking dollar duvet off I get hopping mad. You really wouldn't like me when I'm hopping mad, trust me on this one.

Seriously. They're wanting to MAIL US BACK OUR WRECKED DUVET, and that's all we get for our 35 dollar investment in their services? FREE EFFING SHIPPING?

I cannot use a wrecked duvet. If their freaking seamstress couldn't fix it, what are the chances that I can? What do I need with a wrecked lovely expensive bag of feathers at this point?? I mean, other than weeping in disappointment into it, or letting the cats use it, or turning it into a giant mishmash of dog bed, I cannot use a giant bag of clumpy feathers that used to be a lovely expensive duvet, can I?

No, I cannot.

And it's coming on cool around here; it's turning into perfect duvet weather. And us without a duvet anymore. At least my boiling blood will keep me warm, dammit, but it's not the same as a lovely duvet's worth of lofty comfort.

Should I be so very incensed over the turn of events? How loudly do I complain? What recompense should we demand from the cleaners? What should we really EXPECT is our due in this case of duveticide?

Your thoughts?


This has turned into a really long update. Clearly I shouldn't go several days in-between, because the words do tend to pile up. I'll stop here, and wish y'all a happy Thursday.

Tiff out.

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