Posted on January 28, 2009
I love beds. I think about being in one all the time.
Most people dread Sundays but I have grown to love them in recent weeks. While I tend not to sleep in, and instead run errands, visit with friends or hop to the gym on weekends, I find myself back in bed before not too long.
They say (whoever they are) that you’re only supposed to use your bed for sleep and other, ahem, noctural activities. I, on the other hand, use it for everything short of eating or painting my fingernails.
It’s a comfy place to be. This past Sunday, as the sun was setting over Vancouver Island, my entire bedroom was flooded with radiant gold light, and it was impossible to feel anything but amazing.
I read in bed. I write in bed. I blog in bed. I watch TV and movies on my laptop in bed. I knit in bed. I talk on the phone in bed. Last night I was so cold from the weather and tired from the workday that, not long after my muscle-relaxing warm bath, I found myself back in bed – before 8pm, I might add.
Maybe it means I’m getting old. Maybe it means I don’t know how to go out and have fun. But, at the very least, I’m warm and comfortable in my own little haven of pillows and down feathers while I do (or don’t).
(Hey, at least I didn’t write about my search for the perfect french fry.)