Murphy's law

The air takes on the crisp autumn nuances of falling leaves and the promise of snow. I reach for my down featherbed, lean into its embrace, draw comfort from its snuggly warmth. I nestle in: hot tea in one hand, good book in the other. I let the warmth seep into my bones.

I love my featherbed. In the absence of a fireplace, it's one of my favorite things about this time of year.

*sigh* I am, it turns out, allergic to my cozy, comfy featherbed.