Day 23: Gone to bed.

Dear friends,

cozy

On the 23rd day of this month of Thanksgiving, I am grateful for the coziest place in my home, my bed.

It says a lot about me that the place I most enjoy being is in bed. In our household, the most common answer to “Where’s Mom?” is “She’s in bed.”

If I had my druthers, I’d put a bed in the living room. I have a daydream about living in a Manhatten studio where the bed and sofa compete for precious space and the bed wins out. After all, there’s nothing you can do on a sofa that you can’t do better and more comfortably in a great bed. Read, watch television, work, snack, nap, sleep — I do it all in our king-sized bed.

There’s nothing particularly luxe about my bed. My linens are standard fare from Macy’s and my pillows and comforter are from Ikea, But like the princess who hated the pea, I’ve stacked three foam pads on my department store mattress to create an improvised pillow-top surface worthy of the most delicate royalty.

That’s why our bed appears lopsided. Mr. Mom prefers firm mattresses, where firm equals a slab of stone. He chose an extra-firm Sealy while I chose an extra soft Sealy — and our marriage has been all the happier since we put two twin size mattresses together on our king sized bed frame some five years ago.

We also differ on blanket preferences, so this time of year his side of the bed is covered with a Pendleton wool blanket featuring a Native American motif I gave him as a birthday gift many years ago. My side of the bed is covered with a Vera Bradley floral fleece blanket that satisfies my feminine aesthetic and tactile sensibilities.  As a woman who’s known to have a very discerning sense of decor, I find it strange that the clash of the two very different blankets vying for space on top of our comforter doesn’t unnerve me.  But when I look at our bed, all I see is an idyllic Island of Comfort piled high with linens and pillows and blankets just waiting to envelop me.

Friday morning, it was 33 degrees with a stiff wind and  a light rain. To say I got a little chilled during my pre-dawn run is a bit of an understatement. I was so cold I came home and — instead of answering email and getting a head-start on the day’s work as I usually do — I crawled back under the covers and invited Mr. Mom to share some warmth with his frozen wife. The view outside our bedroom window was like a pen and ink drawing of a winter day, gray sky framing a stand of black, sculptural trees. As I savored the coziness and stillness and beauty of the moment, I thanked my lucky stars for the comfort of a good bed and a generous man.

With gratitude {for every moment spent in my favorite place},

Joan, who takes after her father who often said “There’s few pleasures in life more enjoyable than sleeping”

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Comments

  1. Not me! I’m all about the rest of the house all day long and rarely re-enter my bedroom (after the obligatory dressing/bed making). If I’m in bed during the day that probably means I’m sick.

  2. I lean toward the texasdeb philosophy of bed, although that may have something to do with my should-be-retired mattress purchased during the Paleolithic Era at that grim emporium of home practicality, Snow’s Furniture on N. Sheridan.

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