I shall sleep the sleep of the damned, swathed in sateen and the silken locks of angels. I will dream of Fabergé eggs resting atop a plateau of gabardine. Blessed are those who walk the path betwixt linen and twill, watching the chain links cross the sky, breathlessly seeking Heaven.

I hope that J.K. Rowling does not sue me for mentioning MayoKetchup™.