"You look like you need a crispness upgrade," he’d whisper, tossing a bale of pillowcases onto their bed like a blackjack dealer.

He didn't just find a wholesaler; he found the wholesaler. They didn't sell by the set; they sold by the "bale." Within forty-eight hours, a flatbed truck arrived at The Sleepy Hollow.

What kind of bedding are you looking to stock up on— linens or something more eco-friendly ?

A crisp white sheet draped over the dining table looked "shabby chic."

"In the guest parlor," Arthur said, his eyes gleaming with the triumph of a man who would never see a laundry bill over twenty dollars again.

Eventually, the local newspaper did a feature on him. The headline read: The Man Who Smothered the Town in Comfort. Arthur read the article while sitting on his custom-made throne—which, of course, was constructed entirely out of 400-thread-count cotton bundles. He had finally achieved his dream: a world where no one ever had to sleep on the same side of a sheet twice.

Arthur was the kind of person who didn't just buy a spare set of sheets; he prepared for a linen apocalypse. It started when he opened "The Sleepy Hollow," a small bed-and-breakfast that he intended to be "cozy."