Bed Time

When I was a kid, grade school age, I read a quote from a guy in a band in what I remember as Tiger Beat magazine. I don’t remember the name of the guy or his band but I’ve never forgotten what he said:

Whoever invented the bed should be given a medal.

What a funny thing, I thought, for an adult (a guy who was likely, in retrospect, in his early or mid-twenties) to say! Since I didn’t know about sex, I almost certainly didn’t interpret the quote in that light. I’ve thought often of his words and the older I got, the more I concurred. Again, not because of the sex angle either. I just think beds are grand! I feel so lucky to get to sleep in one. I love my bed.

I remember when I was in my twenties, telling my sisters I called it “The Happy Bed.” I’d climb on in and smiling, would say this to myself as I snuggled down. The Happy Bed. Later, one of my sisters told me she’d tried it but said – somewhat accusingly I thought – it didn’t work for her. I wasn’t sure why she thought it would; those were my feelings about my bed.

This thing we humans do – laying down to sleep is kind of strange. What if we slept upright instead and merely stood there like some animals? We wouldn’t need beds, perish the thought!

One of the few things I miss about the winter season once it’s passed, is burrowing under a pile of blankets in bed. That is one of life’s most delicious sensations. I wonder from time to time, if it’s at all related to being in the womb? An unconscious reminder? I have no idea.

What pleases me to no end is that we have to get in bed and go to sleep. It’s not optional. No, I’ll never be one of those silly people who say they’ll sleep when they’re dead and consider time spent in bed a nuisance that cramps their style. On the contrary, it’s one of my favorite places to be. A medal to the inventor indeed! Bed I salute ye!