I think about death. I do. When my husband falls asleep on his back with his hands on his chest and his chin falls down, I call it the coffin pose. My funeral playlist is an oft-pondered subject. I am more inclined to say, “I love you” to people who don’t expect it, because I know that one sometimes doesn’t get go-backs. I remind myself that our days are numbered. And this is a sober introduction to a playful subject.
Because, if I survive Curt, one of the things I would miss the most is making the bed with him.
There is a history.
Three weeks into our marriage, we experienced an unsettling reality: we had different ways of doing things. What we were doing was making the bed.
It started with the fitted sheet. There is a correct sequence: first a top corner, then the opposite bottom corner, like an X…then the other top corner, and finally the opposing bottom. Fewer wrinkles or gaps. Curt disregarded my domestic dogma and just put the sheet on…however he saw fit.
Next was the flat sheet. Back then, there was a right side and a wrong side. Which side faces up? I said the right side, because…that is right. He said the wrong side so when you folded the sheets back to get into bed, both sides were right. (I concede, he was right.)
But the pinnacle of our disagreement was pillow placement. He said the open sides of the pillow were in the middle. I said the seams were in the center, open sides at the edge. And, you see, one of us had to give.
Because we were twitterpated there was no rancor in our disagreement. Just lots of teasing.
Life filled up and I ceased caring about X corners and pillow placement. The bed just had to be made. Early on, however, it became a game.
After the bedspread/duvet is smooth and folded back, we race to put the pillows in the pillowcases. And there are no rules, no holds barred. Everything is fair play. If I am on the verge of victory, he lunges across and yanks the half-cased pillow out of my hands. I hide his pillow case and begin before he’s retrieved it. We giggle like idiots. It’s hard to case a pillow when you are shaking with laughter. The winner flings the pillow on the bed with a flourish and a shout.
Making the bed.
Ordering the common life.
This is what we keep striving towards: get the work done, but infuse it with fun. (I hope we have 34 more years of laughter.)