Holidays and Duvets

Well, it turned out that the "Fun Run" was from the running store to the bar across the street after all.  I came in first.   Other strange holiday events this week include my mistaking the dark-haired angels with golden wings on my festive red socks for flying reindeer wearing yarmulkes.  Without my glasses on those wings really looked like antlers.  Then yesterday I decided to take the cumbersome duvet cover out of the laundry basket where it's been taking up residence for I won't tell you how long, iron it, and actually put it on the down comforter.  Not so much for decor, you understand, as to claim an inch of space in the laundry basket.  Suddenly the biblical passage about "wrestling with an angel" came to mind, except the language used in the adventure was not exactly celestial.  It's a queen comforter, which doesn't feel that big when Himself rolls over in the middle of the night and captures three-quarters of it on his side of the bed.  But when trying to tuck its four sneaky corners into what is essentially a giant pillowcase, the bloody thing is massive!  After a half hour of struggling with it, cursing it, and twisting it into strange shapes (accidentally) I did the only sensible thing.  I called my friend in Wales. 

My friend is actually English, but lives in Wales, a country I LOVE, and has for over thirty years.  They know how to deal with such things there.  He also taught me how to make a mean risotto.  Luckily he was home, and patiently, but with undisguised amusement, walked me through the whole process, which involves turning the cover inside out, then slowly unrolling it over the comforter, rather like putting on a stocking.  It worked!  And in my defense, he told me that the last time HE had had to put on a duvet cover, he had employed a word that is heard quite frequently in the States.  It began with an "F", but it wasn't "fun".