post the hundred-fifty-ninth, 2013

i'm a bed maker. 

i mean, not for a living. c'mon. 

i make my bed every day, just about. it's a rare day that i leave it unmade and even then, i'll come back and make it before i get back in it. 

getting in an unmade bed makes me feel... i don't know if it makes sense but i'm gonna say it makes me feel homesick. yeah, even at home. 

all my life, my bed's been a sort of central to my bedroom. i mean... duh, right? #haha but srsly -- my bed's a chair, a desk, a couch, a... bed. it's got to be made to make it as all those things. 

and i guess it's a bit of a feng shui thing too. the room just looks complete and the completeness brings a peace. 

same reason i do the dishes every day, straighten up the kitchen before i leave to discover what the day brings. 

it's all so when i come back home there'll be that peacefulness about the place. 

i'm not a fanatic or anything. if it doesn't get done, it doesn't get done. i won't stew over it or make myself late. it's not like that. 

it's just about thinking about my end-of-day self at the beginning of the day, and taking a moment to do something for myself that i know i'll appreciate later.