Afternoon Hour

I like to pour over decorating mags as much as anyone, but had to snicker over one of the features the other day. This guy had prettied up his whole house by himself, and the living room sported "antique French toile covered pillows on a sofa upholstered in (get this) linen sheets from a European monastery." I said out loud, "Aw-w-w, please!!"

But perhaps I was too hasty to snort: could it be that his ordinary sofa became hallowed when clad in material from such a venerated location? Surely this fabric would have absorbed some amount of superfulous goodness, just from the surroundings. Or maybe the holy sheets were assigned to that couch just to keep those French throw pillows in line. You know what they say about the French.

I wonder, did the monks themselves weave the flax into linen? More than that, did they, with their own hands, pull the flax out of - wherever that plant grows? Or, on a more realistic note, was the linen simply delivered to them in a cart by the people of the nearest village for a pittance, then sold by the brothers for more than a pittance?

I have a hard time visualizing making my bed with linen, epecially since I slept on muslin sheets growing up. I don't what that stuff's made from - I do know that after being laundered several times, your bed clothes will sprout little "pills" of wadded fabric that can make for an interesting night.


I really don't have any animosity toward linen sheets; I'd like to try sleeping between a set before I die. Don't you think that surely Wal-Mart will stock them one of these days?

Sadly, this post has no point - it's just the musings of my mind.