I'm having company this weekend.
This isn't really big news. I often have family members stop by and crash in my living room. I gave up my larger townhouse for smaller apartment living, which is great for cleaning and upkeep and utility costs, but it sucks for storage and for accommodating guests. I have a semi-comfortable futon that I pad with a thick mattress cover, and I bought some nice sheets for it. For the upcoming company visit, I set up the futon and put the pad on it. Then, I look for the bed linens where I always keep them.
The bag is missing.
I spend an hour tearing apart every piece of this apartment, which is crazy since I recently redid the two closets, and I also recently cleared out and reworked the storage benches. There is absolutely nowhere else this bag might be. Well, except for possibly in a donation box somewhere. There is a very real possibility that I accidentally threw the bag of clean sheets near a place where I often gather bags to go to Good Will. All I can think of is that someone now has a rarely-used, basically brand-new set of comfortable, lovely, wrinkle-free, purple flowered sheets.
To prep for my guests, I do not have time to go to the store, even though I live near a Target. I really don't want to be limited to whatever selection and prices the store have, so I throw a random king-sized top sheet over the futon and beg my relatives to bring sleeping bags with them. This seems like a great solution, except that my anxiety is ramped up now because I still cannot find the damn futon sheets.
This dilemma bothers me for about twenty-four hours.
Finally, I sit down on the computer and Google queen-size sheet sets. Within seconds, I am informed that there is a sale at JC Penney this weekend, starting today. The movie Airplane is one of my favorites, as is the character Johnny, who studies the newspaper foretelling of disaster and announces, "THERE'S A SALE AT PENNEY'S!"
I find a great selection of sheet sets at unbelievable prices. I throw in two pillow protectors, also on sale. What the heck, I add in a king-sized blanket, also, not surprisingly, at a discounted price. And, because it's a special weekend sale, I get even more money off the entire order. The whole kit-and-kaboodle costs me a whopping $57. If I were to put a price on appeasing my anxiety, I would've guessed it might cost a lot more, and it probably would have if I had gone to Target and picked something off the shelves.
Of course, now that the order has been placed (scheduled to arrive Friday), the original bag with the original sheets will certainly make an appearance. I don't care! I have my sanity back, and it cost much less than therapy. Now, if I start mumbling, "Auntie Em! Uncle Henry! It's a twister!" or "Leon's getting laaaaaarger," just pull up the JC Penney website and place that plastic credit card in my angry little fist.
