A bright morning
It can be so strange waking up the first few times in a new place. My eyes pop open and see that naked bay window in our bedroom; the shade was broken and we haven’t replaced it yet. I can see the sky, and a tiny bit of the buildings across the street. It’s not a bad view, and I love being able to see straight out the top of the window. Our bed is actually on the floor right now, because I haven’t gotten around to re-building bed frame. Between me and Frannie, I’m the furniture builder/deconstructor and the packer. He’s the brute force that carries packed boxes up and down the stairs and packs them into the car (he’s great at packing tetris).
Since we’ve no dryer, we’ve had to air dry our fitted sheet and we put an extra flat sheet that never gets used directly on the mattress. I’ve never really cared much for matching sheets or beds that look pretty and pristine. My bed is usually made, but not very carefully so. I think this flat sheet is one that my mum gave me when I was in college and I’ve been moving it from place to place over the past 10 years.
(Wow, that’s a long time.)
Perhaps because of its age, the sheet is soft to the touch and is so smooth when you first slide on top of it and under the comforter. Someday we may have the little things like matching sheets, a bed skirt, and those silly little decorative pillows, but it’s never been important to me. I just like the bed to be comfortable and the blankets to be soft and warm and my pillow to be firm and supportive. It just has to be good at letting me rest; who cares what it looks like.