I was in way over my head. Literally.
And I thought I was prepared for the challenge.
I had started training earlier in the day.
By putting towels in pillow cases. I perfected my process: shove the towel all the way to the back, then grab both ends and shake.
After hours of practice, my doggie duvet was perfect.
And I was ready for the real thing.
Or so I thought.
I laid Kimmy's duvet cover on the hallway floor and measured the duvet, determining which corners went in first.
"This hallway ain't big enough for the both of us," I said to the duvet. "You're going IN THERE."
The duvet just laughed.
I took a deep breath, grabbed hold of the far end of the duvet corners, and crawled in, kneeling on the near ends to hold them in place.
As I approached the end, I dropped one of the corners. CRAP! Where the flip was it? I felt around for it. Nothing. Maybe over there? Or there?
Hours later, Kevin came to my rescue.
And my brave dog led me out of duvet hell.
I was 5 pounds lighter. And that was before I grabbed both ends of the duvet and "shook."
It was an exhausting experience, both mentally and physically.
I told my sister Jan about my duvet workout. She could hardly get a word in.
"Holy crap!" I said. "Assembling a nuclear plant would be easier."
I chugged some wine. "Next time I do that I'm going to lay down bread crumbs so I can find my way out."
I was on a roll.
"And pack a lunch. I could have starved to death."
Jan accused me of being dramatic.
"You could do what I do," she added.
"I use my duvet cover like a bedspread and lay it on top of the duvet."
What fun would that be?