Give me a chance to wash it before you call me PigPen.

29 Dec

Uh oh. Just as I’m getting ready to sit down and craft my resolutions for 2011, I’m on the road to developing a new vice.

Yesterday I stopped by Bed Bath & Beyond to pick up drapes and a curtain rod for my bedroom in an attempt to add a layer of insulation to my double windows. Of course, no trip to BB&B is complete without a ridiculous impulse buy, so upon arriving home I somehow found myself in possession of this item:

Note: one side is fleece, the other is like a little lamb.

I am already in possession of two afghans, so I’m not sure why I needed another throw blanket. At least, I wasn’t sure until I sat under it. Holy shit. I now know what babies feel like when given their first Blanky Boo Boo. It was warm… it was soft… it even seemed to snuggle back, if that’s possible. At times I found myself reaching down and petting it, as if it were a kitten.

Before I knew it, everywhere I went I was wrapped in this thing or dragging it along with me. Given my tendency to be perpetually cold, I can see this becoming a staple of my housebound winter wardrobe. In fact, I don’t think it’s a stretch to imagine Alan issuing me an ultimatum: “Put that blanket down or I will not come over.”

I now have greater sympathy for my sister, who was so attached to her childhood blanket that she slept with it on her pillow until it (quite literally) disintegrated in the washing machine. She was well past toddler-hood at that point. Or high school, for that matter.

It shouldn’t surprise me that I’m just now digging on a security blanket. After all, I’ve been a late bloomer on damn near everything. (Except sarcasm. That came to me early.) Plus, I never really had the opportunity to become attached to a blanket early in life – I never had one.

No, I think that after fostering my sister’s addiction, my parents were nervous about having two daughters toting blankets everywhere. Instead, I had “Quimby,” which was my version of a security item. Quimby was originally a fur stole for a Barbie and looked something like this:

Oh Quimby, it looks like you have a tapeworm.

Except I think we added two adhesive eyes to it to morph it from “stole” into “pet” for me. I have fond memories of road trips with Quimby stretched out next to me on the backseat of our Aspen station wagon. I think the genius of Quimby is that a) he fit in my pocket and b) could easily be replaced with a quick trip to JCPenney and a set of googly eyes.

I digress. This isn’t about Quimby, it’s about an impulse buy that may turn into a compulsion. Although, now that I think about it, it might look cute if I stick a couple eyes on it and give it a name. I mean, we ARE going to be spending some pretty quality time together. Right, Lamby?

2 Responses to “Give me a chance to wash it before you call me PigPen.”


  1. New year = new bed. A big girl bed. « pithypants - January 2, 2011

    […] first car or first home. For me, it was a new bed. (Ironically, I realized I also purchased a Blanky Boo Boo this week. We call that a “juxtaposition,” […]

  2. List: 10 THINGS that make weekends even better « pithypants - January 7, 2012

    […] Lamby […]

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