This Should Really Be the Set-up for a Joke

Last night I was lying in bed reading, mindlessly rubbing my foot on the sheets as people sometimes do. After a few minutes my brain started noticing that mine were some really smooth sheets. Like satiny smooth. Then it started wondering when I put satin sheets on the bed. Smooth, satiny sheets. Then I disengaged from my book enough for my brain to realize something was off. I don't even own satin sheets, and looking at them and feeling them with my hand reaffirmed that these were my basic cheapo, pill-y flannel sheets for winter. 

The foot was still insisting on the satin. It was such a weird sensation that I finally got out of bed to pull back the covers and make sure there wasn't a shirt or pillowcase or something else hiding in the sheets.

Nope. I've just reached the point where the nerve endings in my feet can't tell the difference between cheap flannel and satin. 

Good thing Eddie Bauer doesn't have that problem.