You know the one.
It’s made of wool.
It has satiny trim that tries to deceive you into thinking this will be a nice blanket experience.
But it’s not.
Every house has one.
It’s buried deep in the bowels of the linen closet, under some afghans and a comforter with the down coming out of it, but make no mistake.
The scratchy blanket is there.
And it waits.
When you go to a friend’s house to stay the night and get stuck with the scratchy blanket.