Since I was a kid, I’ve always placed a glass of water on the nightstand at bedtime. My dad called it night water, and I still call it that. Some mornings there’s a full glass of night water on the bedside table. Other mornings, I’ve drunk it all sometime in the night and the glass is empty.
A few days ago, while I was making the bed in the dark, I jerked on the blanket and knocked over the glass of water. It soaked a corner of the blanket and the carpet. I stomped on towels to soak up the water, flung the bedspread to the foot of the bed, and propped the blanket up with the remote control. It was merely water. It would dry.
That morning when I walked down the hall to my office, I glanced in that room and was stunned to see the bed unmade. It gave me an unsettled feeling. I had not started the day right.
Later, when I carried clothes fresh from the dryer to that room, I was surprised to see that unmade bed. It is not my style to have a disheveled bedroom. For me, it’s a fingernails-on-the-chalkboard feeling to see an unkempt bed. Wow, did that image take me back in time.
I sleep on one side of the bed. While asleep, I roll over in place, so that only one side shows I slept there. It takes approximately fifteen seconds to make my bed. If you are lucky enough to sleep with the person you love, that’s a different story, and making the bed presentable could take longer.
My arthritic thumbs object strenuously to changing sheets, tugging hard to stretch those fitted corners, so I have a method. Once I’ve made the bed with clean sheets, I sleep on the right side for a week, then I switch to the left side for a week, which hasn’t been slept on so the sheets are clean. On change sheet day, I stay on the left side for another week, then switch to the right side. My method means I only change sheets every two weeks, but I have clean sheets every week. I hope you followed that.
This obsession with clean sheets every week and immediately making the bed every morning when I slide out may sound like a little overkill, but it was the way I was raised. And it’s how we raised our sons. The day after their fifth birthdays, they had to start making their beds every morning.
I’m not the only one who sees the value of making a bed. Over a decade ago, Admiral William McRaven gave the commencement speech at the University of Texas about what he learned in training as a navy SEAL. A key takeaway was to make your bed first thing every day. It sets the tone. It’s a task completed. And when you return in the evening, you’re reminded of something you did right that morning. Plus there’s no dust on your sheets. I’m adding that last part, because I believe that’s one reason for making the bed.
No one could bounce a quarter off my bed as required in SEAL training, but my bed is quite presentable. And when I pass my bedroom door anytime of the day, I see a neat room.
Old studies claim a new habit takes 21 days to form. Newer studies show between 18 and 254, (Are you kidding me? Is the giant gap so everyone’s included?) an average of 66 days for a habit to become automatic, like putting on a seatbelt the moment you get in a car. That seems a bit much. Maybe for getting up at dark-thirty and running two miles, but for something as simple as pulling bedding up to cover your pillow, I’m going back to the 21 days before it becomes a programmed habit.
Now this is maybe over-the-top, but when I’m in a hotel, I pull those covers up the moment I’m out of bed. It just makes me feel better and gives me a flat area to lay out my clothes for the day, and nothing gets left in a jumble of bedding.
If you don’t already do this, and I suspect most of you do, you might consider giving my automatic morning routine a try. Just be careful if you leave night water on your bedside table.
