I might be a maniac, but I make my bed every morning, religiously. For me – if I can leave the house with my bed made – half of the day is solved.
I don’t know how this happened, or when I became this kind of person (probably after my compulsory military service) but it feels like this was going on for ever. I don’t know if it’s just a question of sheer discipline. I don’t know if I came to appreciate the calmness I experience every evening when I get back to a tidy bed. I don’t know if it’s a deep, unconscious fear of authority (acquired, like I said, during my compulsory military service).
But it just works.
You see, this is a part of the day that I can control. It doesn’t take too much time, or energy. And it’s visual, you don’t have to conceptualize it. At the beginning of the day, before engaging in all that chaos and unpredictability of a wild world, I have something that works. I can make my bed. Nobody can take that from me.
On top of that, getting back to a tidy bed is a very underrated feeling. You may have taken some punches during the day, maybe not everything worked out the way you wanted to and you feel depressed, tired and meh. Yet, once you get back home, you find a tidy bed. At least that. At least something is in order.
By now I’m sure you think I’m a maniac, and that’s ok.
At least I’m a maniac that makes his bed every morning.
