What’s the Thread Count on that Tarp?

Some time ago when metrosexuals were all the rage I did a story that never got published.  The premise involved a magazine having me fly pretty much straight from 10 days of northern Wisconsin deer hunting – windburned, stubbled, and with dried deer blood under my nails – to an extremely high-tone New York City hotel, where I then spent two or three days being scrubbed, trimmed, and toned.  I did it all – manicure (two, actually — the deer blood, y’know), pedicure, straight razor shave with warm shaving cream, several different facials, an $80 dollar haircut (nice enough fellow, lots of rapid snipping, but when it was over I gotta say you couldn’t tell it from the ol’ DIY electric clippers buzz cut), eyebrow “shaping” (think of being attacked in the eyebrow region by a rabid woodpecker — lots of tears, but when it was over, for the first time in my life I had two eyebrows) (lasted for about a week).

Anyways.  I am off track.  Point is, as part of the story the magazine had me stay at a hotel that was over the top tony.  That experience was a whole ‘nother story for some other time.  I bring it up for this post only to ask, do you think a place with Frederic Fekkai signature bath amenities” and “Frette linens” and “Fully Equipped Deluxe Poggen Pohl Kitchens in every Suite (I got the Fekkai and the Frette, but sadly did not stay in a suite, so no Poggen Pohl) ever reckoned a sheet from one of their bedside notepads would make a trip to Farm & Fleet?

Notepad from the Alex Hotel

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