I used to live in a hot climate, and didn't know anything about flannel sheets. Oh yes, I think I was aware that they existed, but why I'd ever need them was beyond my comprehension.
Then I moved into a tin can on the side of a mountain, and the first winter I spent there, without a whole-house furnace, was miserable. My nose was cold, my legs were cold, my toes were cold, everything was cold all night long. I didn't sleep very well, even though I piled on the blankets and quilts. The weight was pretty suffocating. There had to be a better method of staying warm!
Before the next winter came, I bought a couple of sets of flannel sheets, and when the nights turned cold, I put one of them on my bed. As I recall, it was the cowboy sheets, really suitable for a youngster, but who cared! I was the only one I had to please with my bedding choices.
That night was heavenly! I slept warm for the first time, and loved it. I got better rest, and so much appreciated not shivering all night.
Yesterday I changed my sheets and put on the flannels. This set features pine trees, but they don't have rough bark or prickly needles or stickery cones, so I'm satisfied. Last night was bliss! I was warm, comfy, and secure, and slept through the night. I should have made the change two weeks ago!
Does this have anything to do with writing? Not a bit, except for general well-being. I'm sure that's all tied together.