Every morning I make the bed. I give the comforter a good shake to restore its loft and then I sweep my hand across the steel blue sheet on both sides of the bed. It feels nice and smooth and when I’m done all the wrinkles are gone. (If only that was possible with my face.) I settle the comforter in place, punch the pillows – a bit of therapy before the start of the work day – drop them with a satisfying whump against the headboard and then add the decorative pillows. In this way I create order at the start of the day, fooling myself into thinking I am the mistress of my universe.
In the early evening, I return to the bedroom and lay out a yoga mat on the cappuccino coloured floor (so named by the hardwood manufacturer) at the end of the bed and commence my stretch and strength routine. The first mistake is leaving on my glasses. The second mistake is looking under the bed. There lies a white film of dust. It irks me. So I get the dust-mop, meaning to banish the visual disturbance under the bed but once started I do the whole room. I do this nearly every day. Where in hell does the dust come from? It doesn’t gather in other rooms, only ours. Our middle daughter enlightened us. “Most dust is human skin.”
My whole life I’ve had dry skin and it gets worse as I get older. I slather body lotion from stem to stern before bed but flakelets by the thousands slough off while I sleep. My husband has equally Saharan skin so together we create a veritable blizzard.
The next time I swept our room I squinted in the dustpan. Yep. She was right.
Just Jot It January and Stream of Consciousness Saturday – For those of you who have patiently endured my daily bombarding your WP reader/email, you’ll be relieved to know we’re down for the count. Only 4 days left to go. After that, a return to the regular routine which is to say no routine.