Last night I was sitting on the couch in my pjs, feeling cold. I looked at the throw that usually sits slung over the middle of the couch when I’m trying to make it look pretty, or spread out in a lump when Hubbie is done getting himself warm, and wondered, ‘why don’t I use it?’
I hate bullshit. When we were looking at building, many, many years ago, we got so skilled at display house-hunting, that within seconds of entering a home we’d look into the first or second room from entry and say “bullshit room,” and make a quick exit.
We didn’t want a bullshit room. One of those rooms that sits there, insanely decorated, with pristine unused furniture, untouched carpet, and a sickly-clean smell finish. We wanted all the rooms, in our then searched-for home, to be used. We didn’t want a scared-to-breathe upon space.
I looked at this throw, used by everyone (even our guests, family and friends) but me, and wrapped it tightly around me as I stretched out on the couch. It was so nice and warm and snuggly, that I seriously had to ask myself if I’d been bonkers not using it this Winter as much as I should have.
Then came time for sleep. I was so comfortable on the couch, rugged up by said-upon throw, that I could have quite easily let myself doze off there. Going up the stairs seemed such a task, and then brushing my teeth… it all seemed too hard. However the object of my desire, Bed, loomed welcomingly in my mind, and I trudged up the stairs.
It was while brushing my teeth that I thought to myself: ‘Bed is always looked forward to. Bed is something loved by so many…’
And then of course the next rational thought that entered my mind was –
‘If I had to come back as an inanimate object in another life, I would choose to be a Bed.’
As you do.
I thought ‘had to,’ because I think most people would rather come back as a live being, be it human or animal, rather than a rigid piece of furniture. But even some people and animals don’t get the type of love bestowed upon them like the good ol’ faithful Bed does.
At the end of the day, we all look forward to bed. When you’re really tired, and you get to bed, I don’t know about you but I do that snuggling thing into my pillow, making that “hmmm mmmm” noise where I’m trying my best to imbed my face into it and wriggle my body into the mattress.
Bed is soothing. When you’re sick, or grumpy or upset, you usually head there. You head there for time out. In the morning when you wake up, you don’t want to leave Bed. The love and loyalty one holds for their bed is unparalleled to any other inanimate object.
Bed does take a thumping at times… but it’s a good thumping, and if you think about it, it’s almost like Bed’s exercise, so that it doesn’t get too rigid and stiff in its constant state. It’s a place of comfort, rest, pleasure and time out.
The only exception to this love for the Bed are kids. Babies and children, AT TIMES, are probably the only ones that don’t appreciate Bed so much. Don’t get me wrong, there are those who sleep, as the thwarted saying goes ‘like a baby,’ but if you think of the first early months (sometimes years God forbid) of a child’s life, waking up every couple of hours, sometimes wetting the bed, other times being sick and vomiting, and then for older kids just defying the idea of sleep in the first place, Bed doesn’t really seem so regarded amongst the very young.
But then again, you can be an over-rambunctious hung-over adult following a night out and fall into the peeing, vomiting and waking every couple of hours category too.
However most of the time, these weak-bladdered, sick and sleep-delinquent children grow out of their bad habits, and grow to love the Bed, as we do.
Bed. The place of magic. Magic inanimate.