Waxing lyrical over sheets and that.

I am writing this this evening, and you are reading this this morning. Probably. I love the time travel aspect of blogging and then leaving your post on a timer like it's one of those dishes you can buy from Argos for the cat that'll make you feel less guilty about going on holiday for a week and being too cheap to put it in a kennel.

People of the future, I love fresh sheets. I have just put fresh sheets on my bed whence I type, I am luxuriating in their soft cleanness, the zesty chemical fresh smell (that is not really fresh-smelling but smells like you imagine fresh to smell because they always use the same chemical smell to mean fresh. Like with beef flavour crisps and banana milkshakes) and their childlike enthusiasm. These aren't like the jaded, world weary sheets I just took off the bed and discarded onto the floor, like yesterday's sheets, these are perky and eager to get on with life, with their purpose - untainted by the world's travails and bits of chocolate.

These sheets are as fresh as it gets, enjoy them while it lasts...