It drove my friends a wee bit mad at times, as I was constantly restaging their knickknacks. As an interior designer, I had a habit of mentally placing things in almost every space, whether it belonged to me or not. I was aching to put things on the mantel. It was a gorgeous apartment: spacious rooms, wood floors, arched doorways-it even had a fireplace! I had no clue how to actually build a fire, but that was neither here nor there. I stroked him as I looked around and oriented myself in my new space. Butting his head under my hand, Clive demanded to be soothed. My hands still stroked the duvet absently, catching the attention of Clive, my wonder cat. I sat up, rubbed my eyes, and turned to look at the wall behind me, beginning to understand what had woken me up. Even half asleep, I was aware of my thread count.
My new bedroom, in my new apartment, I reminded myself, placing both hands on the duvet, grounding myself with the luxurious thread count.
I scrambled up out of sleep, confused as I looked around the strange room.
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