No, not queen-sized and very comfy.
No, not covered in delightful green sheets.
Life is like my bed: e.g., a little crowded sometimes.
[Not I-wake-up-every-morning-with-a-passel-of-toddlers-and-their-father-and-a-kitten-and-a-mysterious-old-peanutbutter-sandwich-in-my-bed crowded. Because while I certainly don't want to wake up every morning like that, oftentimes that sounds fabulous. Sign me up! But not yet, because as much as I'd like to be--I'm not ready.]
In similitude to a significant portion of people, I have a side of the bed. All my sleeping, reading, etc., that I do in bed happens on this side of it. Because it's my side of the bed.
Please don't get technical and inform me that since I am single and hence do not share my bed, all of it is technically my side. There is my side, and then there is the other side. I'm actually seriously considering making that a requirement for my eventual mate--must either prefer that side or have no preference at all . . . or have no serious objections to sleeping stacked like a can of sardines over on this side. Whichever.
Since only one half of my bed is in regular use, the other half tends to become a table of sorts. Currently I have
- two loads of clean laundry waiting (and waiting . . . and waiting) to be put away in my closet
- four large books, including a dictionary
- a backpack
- a flashlight
- eight receipts
- two magazines
- a belt
- a folder full of piano sheet music
- my work schedules for this week and last week
- my laptop, and
- the remains of an old pair of pants after I hacked them into shorts
And so last night my half of the bed was more like . . . a third of the bed. Maybe even only three-tenths. It was small, whatever fraction it was, and when the alarm went off this morning I fell off the bed and onto the floor.
That happens sometimes even when my bed is clear, but at least then it's funny. This was just sad.
Life is like my bed. Sometimes, with the best of intentions, I put stuff down on it.
Remembering the reasons why I do things
Time with nature (away from the city)
Interactions with other human beings
You know, all the things that make a person into a happy person.
I put them down on my life, just for a minute, because I need to find a real place to put them. Maybe the closet where I keep my prayers is out of hangers at the moment. Maybe the shelf where I usually put my goals accidentally had something else placed there yesterday and I need to decide which needs to be where. Maybe I was in a hurry and on my way to work and thought to myself I'll put this where it goes when I get home but when I actually got home that night I was exhausted and sleep sounded way better than putting my scripture study away in its proper place.
And so instead of fitting nicely into my existence, all these necessary things fall by the wayside. Forgotten and undone, but taking up insane amounts of the space in my life nevertheless. Making it crowded for all the wrong reasons.
And so sometimes I fall out of my life, look up in sleepy confusion, and realize that it really needs to be cleared off. I need to actually do the things I've been setting down. I need to put these things away and use them, because in their (beit unintentional and rather absentminded) improper placement, everything else is thrown off.
I'm going to go clean off my bed now. And my life.