I leave the house before The Professor most mornings. I'll tidy up my side of the bed when I get up with the hope that he'll be inspired (or guilted) into doing the same when he rises. You'd think after all of these years my optimism would wane, but I'm not wired that way. It's an old argument that I trot out every now and then. "Honey, do you think you can please make the bed after you get up this morning? The blankets are hanging on the floor on your side." I invariably get a grunt or a "no" or a sheepish grin that means I could have used that breath to ask for the moon and a carriage ride to visit it, and with the same response. I know that when I get home that evening, this is what will greet me:
My routine is to then drop my handbag, set down the mail, and make the bed.
I cannot sleep in an unmade bed. I'm not wired that way, either.
1 comments:
This could be a picture of our room. However, we trade off which one of us leaves it a wreck. So neither of us is the Neat Goddess, and neither of us is the Slob from the Black Lagoon.
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