I am a compulsive bed maker. I don’t like sleeping in an unmade bed and I don’t like getting dressed in a state of mess. (Keep your comments to yourself all those that may have seen my bedroom before I was about twenty years old.)
I walk in the bedroom and think what the hell? My room is a mess! I know I made the bed. And from behind the pile of blankets I hear the sigh. A contented sleeping dog. With his ass on our pillows. Good thing I love him. Can’t say I have ever had another roommate that I’d let get away with this….