by Jeana Pruitt Weeks
I have a new love. It’s a love so true and pure I get a little misty whenever I think about it. Please don’t think me shallow when I tell you the object of my affection is, well, an object. It’s my electric blanket.
I had long forgotten what a beautiful thing a pre-warmed bed was. I have suffered under pounds of blankets for far too long. For Christmas my husband generously relieved my cold-footed misery with a gift of a dual-control velour king-sized electric blanket–complete with auto shut off and a darn near angelic reheat function. It was love at first plug-in.
I had an electric blanket years ago when I was single. It now gently keeps my little girl warm. For so long, I have lived without a truly warm bed, deciding I really didn’t need to spend that much money on a blanket when I could just sleep in socks.
But I was wrong. I needed this.
When I slip into a luxuriously warm bed at the end of long day, I feel so genuinely blessed. I know most of the world has never had this experience nor will they ever. Just thinking about my gift of a warm bed on a cold night makes me warm on the inside (pardon the pun).
Okay, so, yes, I know I live in southern Texas. Yes, I know most of the country simply laughs at what we call winter. (Which, by the way, we laugh at what most of the country calls summer, but I digress.) I firmly admit I can’t handle the cold. It’s just not in my blood, which has thinned out after a lifetime of southern living.
Which is why, I love my electric blanket. If I knew who created such a miraculous invention as a way to warm a bed without setting in on fire, I think I’d kiss him or her, provided he or she was among the living.
My husband lamented that he’s now been replaced. I told him that wasn’t true.
We both knew I was lying.
Jeanna Pruitt Weeks, educator, consultant, blogger, teaches home school. Member of the Ink Blots.