the most terrible thing about being a student again is that I am no-longer able to justify the extravagance of bed accoutrement.
I have the worst pillows. seriously. the worst. ask anyone who has experienced them. they’re all squelchy and pathetic and insubstantial. they’re like paper cut-outs of pillows. they’re so wholly unlike pillows that it’s uncanny they should have been packaged and sold as pillows, and ridiculous that I couldn’t sense their inferiority while selecting them. by the light of day—adorned with my indulgently-hipster, generally-floral, printed Ralph Lauren pillowcases—they make fetching, pillow-shaped bed-decorations. but in darkness it is a challenge to distinguish them from the mattress.
how am I supposed to wake up feeling sexy and refreshed and studious and ready to face the world and accomplish things when—all night—my head has been cradled by these deficient, lamentable, inconsequential fabrications?
I’ve seen more padding on a night-stick.