Making Beds in a Burning House

Donna brought this up last week, and I thought it was too good to pass up without comment: She has recently taken to making the beds in her house. After all these years of being a "bed rebel" (as she calls it), she enjoys straightening up the bed she shares with her husband as well as the beds their kids sleep in.

As someone who has visited Donna and Noel's house, I vaguely remember seeing an unmade bed. Seeing this didn't make me think less of these well-spoken and well-rounded friends of mine. I remember more about the Days of Heaven, Tunnel of Love, and London Calling posters in their abode, along with a vast library of comics, CDs, and DVDs. Their home is a reflection of who they are and what they like -- as a home should be.

When it comes to the beds that I sleep in -- including hotel rooms -- I make them by habit. Not only does a made bed look good, it sure is nice to climb into one that has smooth sheets. Smooth sheets help me relax as I drift off.

But I seem to have this daily battle with my beagle Victory. It's rather frustrating when she gets under the covers and creates her own little fort. I have no clue what I'm getting into when I head into my bed. She could be at the foot of the bed or smack dab in the spot where I sleep. Everything's crumpled, so I usually straighten some things out. But she's a wonderful part of my life, so I simply deal with her erratic behavior.

What's funny is that I was not someone who made my bed growing up. What was the point? Was company coming over? Oddly, I still have that attitude when I stay at my parents' house. I rarely straighten things up. When I have Victory with me, making a bed is completely pointless because she likes to curl up in it when I'm not there.

Consider this another slow embrace of adulthood. I might be an adult on paper, but I don't adhere to doing everything because I'm age appropriate. I do this because I want to.