When I was a kid, I was expected to make my bed each morning before the day got started. That habit or ritual that my mother was responsible for has never left me. Sometimes I think why is it so important. Do you sleep better because your sheets are not in a crumble or the pillows not fluffed? Probably not. Somehow it just makes me feel better and to know that I accomplished at least one thing for the day.
A few years ago, while living in Marshalltown and running my cleaning business the following happened and caused some stress related to bed making. The ladies that worked for me would meet at my apartment each morning throughout the work week. We would rendouvous in the enclosed front porch that acted as the office.
On this particular morning, I had over slept and I heard them yelling at me. As quickly as possible, I got ready and was heading out my bedroom door. I stopped and looked back at my bed which was not made. What to do! Frustration! Finally I just slammed the door shut and went to work. All day I thought about that unmade bed. Darn you mom!
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