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a sheet story

31 July 2021

i have a favorite sheet. let me rephrase. i have only one usable sheet that happens to be my favorite. this saturday, after cleaning my favorite sheet, i put it out to dry and as we live on the thirteenth floor in lisbon, the wind is strong, (and my nerves weak). my favorite sheet got all tangled up. whilst i was trying to take it back inside, it got ripped. now, there is a hole in my favorite sheet. in my only sheet. which is beige because obviously, that is the only stylish acceptable color one can have for an only child sheet. for a single lady who is too preoccupied to buy another one, so she makes it stylish at last.

the sheet looks like a mouse ate it.

i made the bed and watched the sheet, with the hole. laughing in my face. 

by now, while i write this, i know i cannot live with this and sleeping will become even bigger torture than it already is. 

so now there is a hole and i need to learn to live with it.

i could go and buy a new one. that i am trying to do already for months, but my brain convinced me there can never be a better sheet than this one. not even at zara home where i bought it.

i could also be a skilled woman and patch it. now, the question is. is better the visible patching or the hole? that is just a cover-up. wouldn't be better to have the ugly mistake of my incapability of being an adult woman there for everybody to see. but nobody is there to see it. if there is a man occasionally to see it, i might as well just say i did it, because at night i need to chew on something. that will force the man to leave and as usual, i will be the happiest once there is no unwanted presence. only the hole in my sheet. and my soul apparently.

to trash it away seems very unecological. 

so the only question now is, am i going to be able to sleep with it? (well i have slept with much worse so let's just finish here). because i am not doing anything about it.

i am trying to push this towards some metaphor of my life, yet i cannot find any. it seems slightly cheesy to make the hole a visible mistake i have, we all have. 

so there are only three types of people in this world. and i do not want to hang out with any of them. the ones that change, the ones that ignore it and the ones that do nothing and complain. 

i wonder what level of adulthood is this. also, in the Cambridge dictionary, the definition of adulthood is hell. so i know, i will learn how to live with the hole, but in the beginning, this will be just so uncomfortable. therefore it makes me wonder if this is the way i live my life.

- it kinda sucks, but i will learn to live with it. cause imperfect things are cute and also should be cherished. for their visible ugliness, from inside to outside. and then, when eventually the hole will disappear, i will stand there, in my bedroom, being even more unhappy, because now i miss it. it will take me months to get to learn to love the new sheet. even though i buy the identical one. and i will again somehow destroy it in couple of months. and the story goes on and on.

so see, the moral of the story is, do not buy it in zara home. level up and buy the more expensive one. also new silk sheets for your pillows. no wrinkles, beautiful hair. for sure a happy life.

if anybody buys me a new sheet for my birthday, cut me off your contact list.

cheers.



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