There are two kinds of people in this world: those who make their bed and those who don’t.
I make my bed every morning. After Phase One (the smoothing of the sheets and blanket) is complete, I move on to Phase Two, which involves circling the bed several times to make sure everything lines up correctly. The third and final phase is the plumping and centering of throw pillows, and often requires that I step back several feet into my own closet to achieve the optimal perspective before the bed can be called “made.” Though elaborate, the process is fail-proof and only takes twenty to thirty minutes.
The P-Dawg is not a bed maker. It wasn’t a requirement in his house growing up and get this – he didn’t even know what a flat sheet was until he married me.
“What are you saying, that you slept between the fitted sheet and the comforter like some kind of barbarian?” I asked him.
“Yes,” he said.
Recently I mentioned that I think it’s high time the kids started making their own beds every morning. It’s necessary, I believe, to instill a sense of order and responsibility and, more importantly, for me to get an extra ten minutes of aimless web surfing time per day.
“I think that’s a bad idea” the P-Dawg immediately replied.
“What?” I was aghast. “Why?”
“I don’t want them to end up like you.”
It’s true that the bed making has caused me undue stress at times, such as in emergency situations when I’ve had to leave the house in the morning before the chore is complete. I have, on occasion, come home late and found myself making my bed at eleven PM so I could go to sleep in it. But what difference does this make, as long as I appear normal to the naked eye when I’m out in public?
And so the P-Dawg and I remain at an impasse. I maintain that the state of a bed in its natural habitat is “made,” and he insists that a bed’s default state is “disheveled.” I think that bed making is an exercise in discipline which also helps clear the mind and prepare mentally for a new day, while the P-Dawg believes that the practice can only lead to a life of neuroses and obsessive-compulsive tendencies. (By the way, he believes that children should have responsibilities around the house, he just doesn’t think making their beds should be one of them.)
What say you? Did you have to make your bed as a kid? And if so, has it made you a compulsive freak?Subscribe to the blog. (It's free!)