For the first time in the longest time I can remember, I actually slept *in* my bed last night. The few nights I’ve been home these past two or so months, I usually end up either falling asleep on the couch thing downstairs or falling asleep *on* my bed. We keep the house at 80 degrees, so there’s really no need for a blanket.
But I had enough presence of mind this time to pull back the covers and try to do the sleep thing the normal person way, and that’s when I realized just how much shit I pile on top of my bed. I’m not the widest person in the world, but only 90% of me fit on the mattress.
It’s a queen.
Approximately 1/3 of the bed is taken up by pillows. The rest of it is covered with various items: this laptop, the animals (bear, rabbit, snake, sock zombie), one of my bookbags for school, textbooks, notebooks, engineering pad, pens and pencils, random books pulled from my bookshelves, my purse, a box of cereal and a 5-lb. bag of gummi bears. Oh, and a baseball glove.
In case you couldn’t tell, my bed is where I do homework, where I read, where I use my laptop. I have a fantastic reading chair (that is currently covered with laundry that hasn’t been put away for– yeah, two or so months) and a fantastic writing desk (that is currently covered with non-urgent mail from the past– yup! two or so months), but the bed is where all my work gets done. And people wonder why I have so many erratic bouts of quasi-insomnia. Man, if that one ex saw this going on, I wouldn’t hear the end of it for weeks.