The bed is made again this morning. That’s two mornings in a row with Ferrett here, 12 days total.
I have gone back into the bedroom after he gets up and made the bed. We appear to have reached a good blanket detente: his extra quilt being sandwiched between the sheet and the top quilt is working, and makes pulling the bed together much easier than any other solution I’ve previously attempted.
So my bed battle is not with Ferrett. No, it is with fashion.
You see, you cannot buy a bedding set these days without the inclusion of decorative throw pillows. Decorative throw pillows are my undoing. It doesn’t seem like picking up a few pillows and tossing them onto the bed would be that difficult, but it is the place where my brain rebels. They are the appendix of bedding: useless, except as a source for trouble.
Because the throw pillows end up in the corner on my side of the bed. And soft pillows on the floor are seed for a pile. The next thing I know, I’m taking off my clothes in the evening and thinking, “these pants can just lie here on the pillows instead of being hung up; I’m planning to put them on tomorrow morning” instead of hanging them in the closet. Then my workout clothes join that pile instead of being folded up and put on their little shelf until the next day, then I can’t find those shorts I was going to re-wear, so I get out another pair, and then when I get undressed at night it’s easier to think that I will put my underthings down the laundry chute tomorrow.
The next thing I know, I’m wading through clothing shin-deep to get to the bed.
Of course the answer of “just don’t do that” is simple, but completely impossible. I’ve spent YEARS doing this. Every time I clean it all up, I swear it won’t happen again. But it happens every time.
Clearly, tossing the pillows into the corner is unacceptable. And I know I won’t put them on the bed. I am rather allergic to useless items, so that is a further mental block. If a thing has no purpose other than decoration, it better not require my attention for more than an occasional dusting. I don’t do fuss.
So I’ve made the decision to simply throw. them. out. Of course it goes against every grain to toss out something that is “perfectly good.” But they are only perfectly good for being an Achilles’ Heel for me. So they are getting stuffed in a trash bag and tossed. No, I won’t keep them for a garage sale or donate them: as Don Aslett says, you do no good in the world by passing on your trash to someone else. And I will make my bed in just a few minutes each morning and not worry about the frou frou that fashion has attempted to thrust upon me.