The Importance of Making the Bed
I’m not naturally a Bed-Maker. In fact, I’m more the “Defend-My-Right-To-Not-Make-The-Bed” kinda guy. (Or at least I was.)
I lived with a Bed-Maker for some time and without fail whether it was first thing in the morning or what seemed like the last thing at night – just when I’d think I’d been successful in my anti-establishment campaign to leave the sheets and covers askew for the entire day – the bed would always be magically made before, well, bedtime. I never won. We never got into an unmade bed.
Perhaps it was that consistent approach that eventually wore me down, but over the years I’ve mellowed in my vigilant defence of non-bed making and have learned to appreciate the importance of making the bed.
In the morning, it’s a moment of time to be present, meditative almost in the ritual that another day has started and is on an even keel. It’s an investment in yourself, your space and the pride that comes from making it look nice for yourself. And it denotes an orderly existence that says despite the demands of a hectic and harried life I still have control of the few moments it takes to make my bed.
Then of course, there’s the reward in the evening of slipping between sheets pulled taut, blankets evenly distributed and a pillow at the right end of the bed.
Yes, I have mellowed considerably! Perhaps more so because for the first time in a long time I have a bed of my own, in a space of my own to take pride in and making the bed seems like a completely new experience. (PS. I also fold my clothes now too!)