Alrightey folks, it's true confessions time... and please feel free to join me in cathartic public humiliation!
I don't make the beds unless company is coming and ONLY if that company cannot be contained on the first floor of the house.
Phew, there, I said it out loud, there is no taking it back now. My husband's darling Scottish Granny is probably snorting and rolling her eyes at the low class, flake her sweet Grandson is saddled with. But I'm not sure I could ever live up to her Martha Stewarty example... she actually IRONS all their bedding! I am in awe. I can't even fold the fitted sheets. I just bundle them around my arm until they are smallish and squishy enough to fit on the shelf.
Seriously though...WHY? Why the hell should I make something that I am just going to mess up again in another 16 hours? It makes absolutely no sense to me whatsoever. I can understand putting my clothing away after I wash it, so it won't get dirty (not that I do, I am very proud of my FLOOR-DROBE, it is so easy and accessible and provides the dogs with such cushy little nesting sites), but the bed thing I don't get. It gets made when I change the sheets and not again until they need to be changed. I don't find a remade bed any comfier or more aesthetically pleasing. In fact, when I look at a re-made bed, I think well thats 5 minutes of my life I won't be getting back... I could have used that in a far more productive if not self indulgent way!
Do you have a confession you would like to get off your chest? Preferably in a place no one else will ever read it? Well, here is your chance, simply write in a comment, I'll post it here and we will all revel in our little personal rebellions publicly! Long Live The Slackers!!!
It's just life as I see it: take it or leave it, after all "WHATDOIKNOWIMJUSTAMOM"
Maggie
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