Why am I blogging about Linus today? Well because in my reflective mood I've come to realize that Linus and I have a lot in common. No, I do not suck my thumb, but he and I both have a thing for blankets. There isn't a place in the house that I will go without my blanket; at least I used to never go anywhere without it. It's true. Ask anyone in my family. Yes, I know I'm 21 years old and should be over my blanket addiction, but I'm not. I love them. When I was in the eighth grade I got a blanket from my Grandma Norton as a gift. I was really reluctant back then to take it under my wings, but that is mainly because I had broken in the one she had given me before and didn't want to have to break in another one. Oh, I am glad I did.That blanket has been with me for 8 years. Yep, I was 13 when I started toting it around the house. Watching football, it was with me; Christmas day, it was with me; even on my sick days laying on the floor of the bathroom, it was wrapped around me giving me the comfort I needed.
It went with me to college, came back with me to Europe, has spent time in Egypt, Spain and Austria as well. That blanket was MINE! It really bugged me when anyone else used it. MINE!For the past year my mother has been telling me I need to retire the blanket. RETIRE IT??? WHAT? BLASPHEMY! She would only re-iterate her comments when I would lay down with it and hear it rip just a little bit more. Having had the blanket for so long the fabric had really begun to wear out and give up on me.
But I like the fuzzy of the one side and the silky of the other, so I use it. My blue blanket still has a tight hold on my heart and I still use it from time to time but I think it really appreciates the break it has been able to receive.
