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making beds

When I was growing up, we always made our beds. No questions asked.  Beds were made. Every day. Holidays. No matter what.

Well, then I went to live in a dorm in college. And I didn’t make my bed. Oh, maybe I would pull the comforter up if the sheets were super dirty and we had cute boys in the room.  But, basically, I can’t remember anyone making their beds.  My roommates never did.  I didn’t care. I also think I really MADE my bed when my folks would come to visit.  I think I just pulled the comforter up and tossed the pillows to one end.

Then I finally moved into my own apartments for the rest of my undergrad and graduate schooling. Again, no bed making. None.  Ever. At this point I didn’t even “tidy up” for visitors. I mean, it was an apartment, we basically stayed in the living room, so I didn’t even bother pulling up the comforter.

Then, hubby and I moved in to our apartments together. No bed-making.  When people came over, we didn’t care. Even when family visited. They weren’t hanging out in our bedroom, so no biggie. Besides, why made the bed when we were still in the napping phase leftover from college.

Then we bought a home. Then we became parents.  And now, we still don’t make the beds. None of us.  I’ve never had her make her bed. When I chang ethe sheets every week, I kind of pull up the quilts and comforters and call it good.  So, that happens once a week.  And, it’s not really MAKING the bed, it’s just pulling up the sheets. In fact, hubby and I are still in the napping phase leftover from college. Even though we graduated from college some twenty -(cough, cough) years ago.  We still like to nap. The wee one, not so much. But, damn, hubby and I can rock a nap with the best of them. Anyway, we don’t make our beds. And we don’t care.

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