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I made my bed.

For the first time in about 8 weeks, I made my bed.  The minute the calendar ticked over to September 1st, something inside me clicked and I started to turn towards ensuring my household was in order. I embarked on a flurry of making ready projects, washing bedding, putting clothes on the line, putting all the laundry away in their respective places and beginning to think in terms of regimented scheduling again.

The making of the bed was the most symbolic for me.  After weeks of vacations and overnighters and late nights lingering beside campfires or watching movies, I clung to the idea that a made bed was a waste of time, after all I barely spent anytime in it.   Making a bed was associated with school work and assembling lunches and remembering milk money.  But as soon as that full moon made its presence, it was like it switched on my bed-making reflex and it suddenly became extremely important for me to get into a bed with fresh sheets, without sand.

The summer has been full of swimming and socializing and walking in the sunshine. It's been fantastic, but in an attempt to get at every moment the summer threw at us, I neglected my sleeping place.  In turn, I neglected some parts of myself.  As the season continues to turn, I realized that I'm going to need that bed.  I'm going to need it to help me reserve that sunshine I have been so busily absorbing, to face each new day with energy and balance.
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