Happiness. It's relative.
If there was a busted-up parking lot next to an abandoned industrial building no one had entered for twenty-five years and there was no other car in the parking lot but there was a sign that said, “Employee Parking Only,” I wouldn’t park there.
That’s how rule compliant I am.
I have no idea how this happened.
I also make my bed every day even if I end up making it an hour before I go to bed. These things are linked, I believe. Daily bed-making could probably serve as the single most critical screening question in hiring, relationships, trans-national alliances. The chaos of an unmade bed is unthinkable to daily bed-makers. People who don’t make their beds everyday park illegally all the time and aren’t to be trusted. But sadly, we rarely know who falls in which category until it’s too late.
My husband does not make the bed. He just woke from a nap that involved an unmade bed and a pile of laundry. He then walked downstairs, leaving everything as he found it and I am astonished by this, even after 39 years. He would park in front of the sign that said, “Employee Parking Only.”
I don’t know how we’ve lasted this long.
I like a bed to be made. And I follow parking signs. This made me sigh and laugh and smile!
I refused to live with a non-bedmaker, so Garry makes the bed, though he hopes I’ll do it so he doesn’t have too. I at least know which end is (literally) up. Garry always puts it on sideways so it’s way too long and also too narrow. We are short people. We don’t NEED long. We need wide to leave room for The Duke.
Unmade beds give me anxiety.
I am clearly embedded in the illegal parking and unmade bed camp and don’t think it will change at this point in life )