Despite a lucrative trading career and a lavish apartment in TriBeCa, Manhattan resident Dale Farlow refuses to buy himself a second set of bed sheets for the California King sized platform bed he purchased for over $3000.
Farlow, who could easily afford a second set of silk or satin sheets, often stretches the wear time of his single set of sheets, forcing overnight romantic visitors to slumber in his accumulated filth.
“I never thought about getting a second set,” says Farlow. “Why would you need more than one? I only have one bed.”
The women who Farlow has hired to clean his penthouse apartment are forced to strip his bed, wash and dry the sheets, and then quickly remake the bed, all within their allotted two-hour cleaning window, simply because Farlow can’t go into his Amazon account, and quickly click “buy now” on literally any pair of sheets he finds.
The higher-ups at Farlow’s investment bank refer to him as “very bright,” yet he just can’t seem to find the financial resources or emotional reserves to get himself at least one fucking extra set of sheets for his bed, as if sheet-related emergencies could never happen.
Even at their cleanest, Farlow’s one set of 2000 thread count sheets are now plagued with two visible stains and a small tear.
“I guess I could buy another pair,” says Farlow. “But these have still got some wear in them. I mean what am I, a millionaire? Where will I even put them?”
Farlow is, in fact, a millionaire.
