Saturday, November 26, 2011

Back of the Bed: Sheet Dreams

I just celebrated my victorious return to London with a mammoth 11 hours of undisturbed sleep. I realise this won't seem very impressive to most people, but I'm not very good at staying asleep generally. You'd think it would be very simple; it's just being off. However, my brain and I are such massive attention seekers that it's a genuine struggle to just take ourselves out of the loop for enough hours that we're not grouchy.

Just to clarify (in case that last paragraph wasn't stupendously boring enough to have put you into your own coma) it's not that I can't spend an awful lot of time in my bed if I want to. It's just that I am usually awake when this time is ticking you by. You know, because I'm having loads of exciting sex and stuff. Sigh. When I'm not having all the sex I'm just working on emails and appreciating how soft duvets feel against the soles of my feet.

It's hard to feel guilty for still being in bed today when the only thing I really intended to complete today was to go into town and buy some edible glitter. I'm not sure the world is really going to collapse around my ears if the cupcakes I make later are less shiny than planned. It occurs to me that this might be the beginnings of depression: not getting up because you've already decided your plans were meaningless. However, I don't think I've ever been particularly integral to the world and I really quite enjoy both baking and shiny things so I'm confident I'm just staying in bed because I really enjoy being in my bed.

At the moment I'm still in those heady days after a sheets change where it's so good you wonder why you don't change your sheets every day just so you can always feel this comfortable and fresh in the snoozy hours. Of course, the unfathomably difficult task of matching up the duvet to the duvet cover always makes this an impossible dream. Changing the duvet cover looks like it should be much simpler task, because I'm really good at putting gloves on and those arguably much more complicated because of all the fingers. The duvet cover is as simple as just tucking a potato waffle into an envelope. So why is it so difficult?

I guess it must be partly a size issue because it's so big and floppy (permission to giggle). I don't think this is the main reason it's so tricky though - I think it's all the conflicting advice on how to do it. By the time you're 25, approximately 500 million people have imparted their wisdom on their patented way to change the duvet cover. Every conversation begins in the same way:

"Oh it's so easy when you know how..." Thanks, because I'd always assumed that even when I did know I'd continue to do it wrong so that I'd stay grounded. "Just turn the duvet cover inside out and then match the corners up, pick up the corners and then shake it all down! It's so easy!"

"Oh it's so easy when you know how..." Fantastic, and does that logic also apply to non-patronising ways to dispense advice? "Just lay the duvet out on the bed and then put your arms into the duvet cover as though they're gloves and then pick up the duvet. Before you know it it's done!"

"Oh it's so easy when you know how..." Really, is it? What if you know how but you don't have any limbs? Is it still easy if you're matching up corners using an over eager mouth? "What you need to do is climb into the duvet cover and then just bring the duvet in with you until everything matches up on the inside like a jigsaw puzzle."

This leads to a horrendous sight, akin to something in a Saw movie, where all 25 years of advice come crashing forth to your mind at once when you decide to change your sheets. If it's easy when you know how, surely it must be a piece of piss when you know how 500 million people know how? It doesn't work that way and all of a sudden you've managed to cross breed all the advice into one horrible mangle of duck down and flower print. There are poppers up your nose as you climb inside the duvet cover wearing another duvet cover as gloves and trying to do a jigsaw whilst eating a waffle out of an envelope.

Naturally, all the advice you've been given was also suited to a person over 5 foot tall who inhabits a room larger than 2 foot by 4. Concussion follows and you are found by paramedics 8 hours later and filed under "Curiously Inexplicable Masturbatory Practices". Family and friends gather round the hospital bed with faces filled with pain and regret,

"Laura, we just don't understand... Why did it have to come to this?"

"Oh, it's easy when you know how..."

No comments:

Post a Comment