The Not-So-Comforting Aspect of a Feather Comforter

So, wait a minute, whose idea was it to get a feather down comforter, anyway?

Oh yeah, mine.

Well, what was I thinking? That it would be soft and warm and cozy and fluffy and light?

HA!

Well, actually, it's all of those things.

But... it's also a feather multiplier. I stopped counting the kazillions of tiny feathers that have escaped from inside the comforter a long time ago, but I was up to about 6,327,893 feathers before I decided to give up counting. I highly doubt the original feather count in the comforter was anywhere near that number. Although, I didn't check the package label before throwing it away, I'm sure whoever inspected it must have counted the number of feathers in it as it came down the assembly line, dutifully recording that number on the label of the package. Right? And even though I didn't think to check it, I'm certain there's no way the feather count could have been over a million at that point. No way. So, clearly, the comforter acts as some sort of breeding ground for the feathers that were inside it when I bought it. How creepy is that? Not to mention how unhealthy.

And yeah, the comforter itself appears to be extremely soft and light. Okay it IS soft and light. But, in the middle of the night, rolling over and getting stuck by a sharp "Other End" of a feather is not comfortable. Not comfortable, but clearly, comforter-able.

And when they aren't poking you with their sharp Other Ends, these feathers seem to take delight in tickling you with their feathery ends. This is evidently a never-ending source of delight for feathers, judging by how often each night I'm awakened by a tickle.

The real question is: how do they escape? The comforter, (or the duvet I guess, in which we house the comforter), doesn't appear to be riddled with escape hatches. Yet every few seconds another feather finds a way to eject from within it.

Don't think I haven't tested this theory. While sitting in the room, I can look over at the bed and see the comforter, sitting quietly, innocently on the bed, with no feathers whatsoever visible on top of it. Then I look away from the comforter, for maybe 5 seconds. Then I look back. Now I see at least two feathers on it! Nothing has changed in the room during this 5 second glance away. No breeze, no movement of any kind, and yet, my gaze returns to the comforter, and voila! Two, or maybe by now even three more little tickle-bunnies are there, sitting atop the comforter grinning at me. Don't think they aren't grinning just because we can't see their little feather mouths with our naked eyes. They love this kinda thing. They savor the moment of seeing the look on my face when I spot them. They giggle silently, and make their little plans for tickling me later tonight, or for poking me with their sharp little Other Ends.

Where will it end? I've thrown away and vacuumed up at least a million feathers in the 10 months or so since we bought this comforter. But it's just as fat now as it was when we bought it. No, wait - actually it's fatter. That's my pun-intended point! And that's just so creepy.

Yet...this comforter is...just so...comfortable. And soft, and warm, and cozy and light and fluffy. Sigh. The thought of returning to a regular bedspread or quilt is just unthinkable. Wait. How can a thought be unthinkable? Okay good, now I have something else to ponder as I crawl into bed tonight. Something other than the massive feather copulation silently at work inside our duvet. At least they're silent. But don't think they aren't grinning.