Last night a curious thing happened in my room. My boyfriend got in the duvet. No, not on the duvet. Not under the duvet. I did not mean to say he wrapped the duvet, cape-like round his shoulders.

He was actually inside of the duvet. On purpose. [Side note: for some of you gentle readers this may hearken back to the days of yesteryear when my brother would place me inside unlikely coverings, such as a pool table cover or an oversized canvas bag however this was nothing like that. This was totally voluntary with zero prompting on my part].

It began innocently enough. My white cotton IKEA duvet, fresh from the dryer lay in a heap atop my down comforter. I hate putting the duvet back on so I requested his help.
“Would you help me put my comforter in the duvet?”
I said “duvet” loudly and clearly, enunciating carefully for I was not entirely sure he knew this word. Let it be noted his vocabulary nearly puts mine to shame. He is our team’s secret weapon at trivia night. (If he denies it he’s just being humble). He’s a computer programmer for goodness sake. The guy is SMART.

So it wasn’t that I questioned his duvet knowledge from an intellectual standpoint, but rather from a practical perspective. You see, we are dealing with a man who feels a dresser is an irrelevant piece of furniture; why put clothes in there if you are just going to get them out again anyway? He favors a piles-on-the-floor method. He doesn’t see the point of matching dishware. He thinks I am “fastidious.” (Yes mom you read that right. He said that once!!)

Looking back, it happened so fast I can’t exactly remember how it all went down. I think I remember discussing the approach and grabbing onto my corner of the comforter but its all pretty hazy. Before I knew what was going on, there he was, arms skyward, pinching both top corners of the comforter, while the duvet rested, tent-like atop his head and trunk. Without hesitation, once fully covered by said duvet, he dove forward and landed prone, on the bed. He proceeded to wiggle forward, fully clothed, arms extended, superman-like until the upper corners of the duvet and the comforter fully met. I HATE when people sit down in their street clothes on my bed but for these kind of heroics I made an exception. The ends certainly justified the means.

He wrestled his way free of the bedding and emerged… proud? Relieved? Glad to be able to fully inhale? I wish I could tell you. In the thrill of the moment I wasn’t really paying attention to him. Rather, I was marvelling at the state of my freshly made bed. I wish I had timed it. The task could not have taken longer than say 30 seconds, tops. My god, this was raw bed-making talent! He was a natural, for I suspect he’d had minimal if any formal training or practice.

I stood, jaw agape as he acted like he did it all the time. Like, no big whoop. NO BIG WHOOP!?
“That was so cool!! How did you know how to do that? That is totally blog-worthy. Would you mind if I put that on my blog?”
Permission was granted. If you have any questions I would be happy to clarify the step-by-step instructions. I will never again insert a comforter into a duvet using any other method.