Remember when I got the duvet cover? The 75% off duvet cover that I'd been coveting for months? Two and a half years later and I still love that duvet cover, which will now be known as the comforter because, well, because I hate the words: duvet cover.
I like my comforter. I don't want a different one. I matched my bathroom to it. I've looked at other comforters, you know, maybe since we've moved I might want a new one, but no. I only like this one.
I love that comforter.
I also love Adam.
But I was very close to selling Adam on Craig's List yesterday afternoon after I saw this. Anyone in need of an in-house artist? He also does wall murals. Typically in the nude.
As if I haven't had enough of that damn Spongebob this summer, now I can keep him forever enshrined in my bedroom lest they ever cancel that wretched show and I should happen to *gasp* forget about him.
Because no. It won't come out.
For the record, I adore Spongebob like this:
On my linens, not so much.
When I attempt to clean or cook, things like this happen. For my birthday, I want a maid. Or *sigh* a new comforter. And maybe an art tutor for my obviously artistic, creative, seemingly paper-deprived children.
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