the unmade bed

I never saw the point of having to make my bed every morning, to fold the blankets and put them under our pillows (in the 70's we didn't really use air-conditioning and only had a ceiling fan whirring away at night so blankets were thin sheets that had to be folded up and tucked out of sight after use)  and cover our beds with beautifully embroidered bed spreads.

through the looking glass

Mum made us do that.  Every bloody morning.  I never saw the point of making my bed,  then messing it up again each night.  it was a futile exercise.  Once I got divorced (ex mother in law insisted on made beds too)  I stopped making my bed and have never yelled/cajoled or nagged the boys about their unmade beds. I don't mind crumpled sheets and covers, it makes it all so inviting in a way.  a made bed looks too pristine to mess up, it looks uncomfortable!  Comfort to me is messy and things I can cuddle.  It looks sensual and slovenly in a way.

the embroidery

Then I went and got this lovely white bed set, all pretty and white and

attempt at a made bed

embroidered with tiny blue flowers...... now,  I am not a girly girl but this lot of sheets and covers made me make my bed.  It somehow looked odd while messed up.........


I still dont make the bed everyday but when the white sheets are on, the bed gets made........
another lesson on never say never...........