He decided to change the bed. Which was due. So I helped excavate the duvet from within its cover and I decided that his pillow was too manky to be put back on the bed (what DOES he exhale?!) and put the pillow in for a wash.
Reader, there then followed a DISASTER. Evidence Exhibit 1:
These were, not 4 hours ago, a pair of pale green, hand-knitted size 5 cashmere bed socks owned and loved by yours truly. Now they wouldn't fit a toddler thanks to the inadvertent felting process that they underwent when Tartarus attempted to wash his pillow this morning at what must have been a 'boil' setting.
He is truly apologetic and has even offered to buy me another pair of bed socks. He even proffered a pair of his never-rotting merchant navy socks which were hastily deposited back in his sock drawer as I reached for the gleaming new kitchen knife.
However, before you get up in arms, dear reader, at my unreasonableness - be assured that he is still stab-free. And out buying me a Belgian Bun for smoko :-)
*busies herself looking for hand-knitted cashmere socks on Etsy*