The Curious Incident Of Luna In The Mornings

I think when I was a kid "making the bed" had something to do with getting my allowance, so I think for the most part I tried to keep it together most days. Then college happened, and who has time to make the bed between classes, studying, lithography studio time, theater rehearsals, and the occasional party? And then I moved in with a guy who in most respects is pretty neat... in some respects is pretty neat, so it sort of got deprioritized.

Enter Luna The Kitty. Luna never liked to curl up on the bed at the apartment. I thought she'd maybe been unconsciously booted off by one of us in our sleep or something. But when we moved into the Condo, I started making the bed, possibly to keep that "new place" feeling going for a while. All of a sudden, Luna is napping on the bed all the time. But only if it's MADE. She refuses to lower herself to sleep on a tangle of sheets. She must have a crisply tucked bed or she will damn well find another place to while away the sleepy afternoon hours.

And because of this - I kid you not - I make the bed every morning now. Not for myself or JB. Not to have a put-together room. For the cat. I make my bed for the cat. So she'll have a place to nap. If you come over to the condo and the bed is made - I didn't do that for you. It's not me trying to "straighten up" for company. I made that bed for the cat.

About my "neat" husband... he generally leaves one or two pieces of clothing at the foot of the bed. Because I can't tell if these are clean or dirty piles of clothes (and because I get snapped at if I consistently take them all and dump them in the clothes hamper) I just fold them up and leave them at the foot of the bed. Then Luna, prepping for the long day of napping ahead of her, will jump up onto the bed, and tease JB's shorts or shirt or pants out a little in order to lay down on them. She will not nap on an unmade bed, but she likes to have a rumpled piece of JB's clothing to park on.

That's our mornings. I get up, have some coffee, do my morning journal, and then make the bed for the cat. That's why it's oh-so-gratifying to see her go for that memento of JB every single day. Like she's saying "Yeah, thanks for making the bed lady, but I wish JB were here. Huh. What's this? This smells just like JB. I'll just close my eyes and pretend those sounds you make tooling around the apartment are JB. 'Cause I can smell him, since I've got my nose smashed up in the crotch of his running shorts. Ah, the sweet and savory aroma of JB. If only he were here."