Each Friday all the bedding is pulled off the bed, sheets are changed, the bed later remade. It's a ritual replayed in probably every home everywhere on whatever day they choose. There's something wonderful about climbing into a bed with clean sheets. The smell, the feeling of them -- it's like being held. Inviting. Recently, on a Friday evening we climbed into bed and mouse sighed, that contented happy sigh and felt embraced in lavender. It's a rinse we use only for bedding. Sir didn't notice anything -- not even that the sheets were different. How could he miss the smell? He took the default man or maybe husband position that he thought it was mouse.
We have another ritual at bedtime. Sir will toss all the pillows off the bed and onto the floor thst mouse painstakingly arranges each morning, with some satisfaction. Sometimes he'll muse about the connection between women and pillows.
The compliment isn't a serious one, since he doesn't really care what the bed looks like, so long as its made and not covered in flowers. He despises bedding with weeds covering it. To be honest though, between clean sheets and pillows mouse wouid take the feeling of clean sheets. So much so she's often considered washing them more often than once a week. But really it isn't practical. The only time however mouse will put off the ritual changing of sheets is when he's traveling. Often then mouse will put it off as long as she can stand the thought. It's like when she'll wear a shirt he's worn recently to bed, it smells like him. If he's gone for a few days, she will wait to put on clean sheets when she knows he's around thirty minutes from home!
Well we never suggested mouse wasn't quirky.
