I don't mean that metaphorically or anything. I mean it literally. There are some days that I just need to sink into a bed that boasts freshly washed sheets, because that may very well evoke the best feeling in the world. I crave clean sheets on days like today when I've been going nonstop, when I glance at the clock in the bottom corner of my computer and it reads 12:31 a.m., and I realize this is the first down time I've had since 7:30 this morning.
Clean sheets have a way of slowing things down. I know that, no matter what, when I climb into a bed with just-washed sheets, it'll cause an automatic exhale. I can stop worrying about the crap that clutters my mind during the day. I can stop stressing about what Global Perspectives paper proposal or Old Testament timeline is due the next morning. I get to wrap up in the clean, warm, and somehow new sheets, and stop. Stop worrying. Stop stressing. Stop thinking. I get to fall asleep feeling cozy and comfy and peaceful, and that is an absolutely beautiful feeling.
Except I haven't had time to wash my sheets this week. Therefore, I will not be climbing into a freshly made, warm, beautifully welcoming bed.
I'll be climbing into a cluttered, unmade mess of a bed. I'll probably have to toss aside a few articles of clothing that have been laying on the bed since I got ready this morning, only to reveal mascara stains on my pillow from not thoroughly removing my makeup in a hurry to get to bed. And since my bed also serves as my desk most days, there will probably be a frightened and overused highlighter hiding under my pillow waiting to stab me in the middle of the night, not to mention the fact that my supposedly comfy egg crate mattress will be wadded up beneath the sheets from nights of wallowing around in my sleep.
No, I will not be getting into a peaceful, comforting bed. I'll be getting into a bed that is just as frazzled as I am. And you know what? I'm okay with that. Because even though it's frazzled and worn out and the sheets are ready to be restored with some Gain and a nice rinse cycle, it's still a bed. And I have no doubt that, once I'm done writing this and I climb into my familiar bed, I'll fall asleep right away.
You're getting better at better at capturing the uncapturable things. This is just good writing. Something difficult. This reminds me of freshman year. Gives me some real pining. Slightly hurtful. I wish I could still be comforted by clean sheets.
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