I am not really a fan of hotels. I love my own bed too much. Let me tell you why.
I love to know who has been in it and that it has not been in use since I left it. I love the security of it, knowing where I am in the middle of the night when something goes bump. I love the firmness of it and that I can change it at the push of a button to meet my personal comfort (Thank you Sleep Number). I love the ease with which I can get into it and the ease in which I can get out of it. I love the fact that when matters urgently call attention to my lifeless body in the middle of the night, there is a strategically placed porcelain bowl nearby in a lighted location. I love the King size dimensions where both intimacy and personal space can be shared by two parties. I really love my own pillow. One that is neither too tall or too flat and there is no question in my mind as to who may have drooled on it last.
But I have come to realize that the thing I love the most about my bed is sheets. YES, SHEETS! I have not seen a sheet on a bed in over 2 and 1/2 months. It seems that Duvet's are the bedding of choice in Europe. What I say to that is Duvet, Smoovet! That's right, you have heard it here first. I can't seem to find the right temperature to sleep with one of those things. I am either laying without a duvet over me feeling too cool and vulnerable because I have no cover; or, I am too hot and in a pool of sweat because I am completely covered with said duvet.
Now is about the time that I need the My Pillow guy to appear in the bathroom medicine cabinet and hand me a set of My Giza Dream Sheets. Are sheets an American invention? I don't know but if you were to ask me today what is the one thing I have missed on this trip the most, I would have to say, SHEETS!
Grumpy and sleeping less,