I’m enjoying several days discovering the joys of San Miguel de Allende, Mexico and it will be covered in a post next week. And like all other trips I’ve taken, I continue to learn things about myself. This lesson? I’m a sheet snob.
If I wrote for HGTV, I’d call our room “authentic, rustic Mexico.” We are staying in a small inn that has five rooms on three levels, and it is easy to imagine it as a beautiful colonial house. If I were to return to San Miguel, I’d probably stay here. The location is great, the room is very clean, the staff is delightful. But the experience has taken some getting used to.
After a couple of evenings, I’d grown used to making sure I had a fresh bottle of water every night for brushing my teeth because the water is not drinkable. Well, actually it is, but not without unwanted consequences.
And I realized their definition of air conditioning as identified on their web site was the oscillating fan which is good because the only window in our room doesn’t open.
And my vision adapted to the single 40 watt light fixture suspended from the tall ceiling because my iPad has good light. Good thing I didn’t want to actually read a real book or map or anything.
So I was actually doing well until they changed the sheets. I’d managed to finally get some sleep on my too-firm bed. But the new sheets? Nubbies. Scratchy, pilly nubs of low-quality cotton that prick at every pore they come in contact with. You know the kind, right? Maybe it’s part of the colonial experience. A severe case of insomnia exacerbated the situation and made for a lousy night of sleep.
Now here’s the upside. After wrestling all night long on the emery board of bedding, my exposed legs and arms felt as smooth as silk. Seems like the sheets exfoliated my skin. Or so I told myself.
I’m getting ready to go to bed soon and hopefully, tonight will be better. In a few nights, I’ll be back snuggled in my sheets of Egyptian cotton, hundreds of threads per inch. A sheet snob? Oh yeah.