After tiring of waking up every morning looking as if my face had been put through a trouser press (younger followers: ask your parents), I recently bought a couple of sets of those satin pillowcases. If you haven’t seen them, they’re a bit 1980s and not the most attractive of objects, but they are supposed to make you, erm, wake up NOT looking as if your face has been put through a trouser press.
Cat Daddy wasn’t convinced, so I showed him a list of the benefits.
Him: “It says here that satin pillowcases reduce the friction between the hair fibre and the pillowcase.”
Me: “I know.”
Him: “And it’s hypoallergenic, breathable, and less absorbent.”
Me: “I know.”
Him: “OH MY GOD.”
Him: “You didn’t buy them for yourself at all, did you? You bought them for HIM.”
He’s wrong on this one; the thought of Louis Catorze sharing a pillow with me really isn’t pleasant. But, to be fair, buying special pillowcases for their cat is the kind of thing that most cat freaks probably would do. In fact, I didn’t buy the 100% silk ones because they were ruinously expensive and had complicated care instructions, but I bet some of you would. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE.
At the same time as buying the pillowcases, I also bought (from a different place, obviously) a cheap, scratchy tutu skirt to wear to a fancy dress party later this month. Which of the two do you think is Catorze’s new favourite sleeping spot? Go on, I bet you’ll never guess …