Fighting Evil By Moonlight, Winning Love By Daylight

I always stay with my sister when I visit Florida. She's like a real grown-up - married, owns a Kitchen-Aid stand mixer and a three bedroom house. And is a year younger than me. Enough to make any older sibling feel inadequate. She never has house guests besides me, but she has a very cozily appointed guest room. A real, live bed (nunna that fold-out business), a loveseat, a closet for dress hanging, a bookcase containing all the Clive Barker one could desire (that's a lotta Clive Barker). And the prized cheetahs-on-mirror "art" piece I gave her for her birthday a couple of years ago.

My сестренка has plenty of extra linens and such, but always lays out my old Sailor Moon blanket for me (don't judge). It's one of those sort of scratchy, woolly blankets with silky soft material on the top and bottom edges. I'm not sure if she holds onto it for any reason other than to have it on hand for my visits. It's so faded now that you can hardly tell that the print on it is Sailor Moon. It's not a very cozy blanket; you really need to put something between it and your soft flesh, and in Florida, you never really need more than one layer of blanket (and this winter, you hardly need a blanket at all - night time temps didn't seem to drop below 69, dudes [and did I mention my sister's nickname is Dude? Not as in this dude, but more like short for this doo-dah]), but seeing as I'm 90 years old, I always need a blanket, so I tortured myself by sandwiching Sailor Moon between a sheet and a fleece throw. A little excessive, perhaps, BUT I LIKE TO GO HARD.