I can take care of a house, and some people I meet, I think, 'You don't even know how to make a bed.'
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I don't have to make my own bed.
The thing I can't figure out is why I have an undeniable compulsion to clean public spaces, airplane bathrooms, restaurant flatware, hotel gyms and Chapstick containers... yet I have no desire to make my own bed. Ever. Seriously, who made me, and where am I from?
My mind is not a bed to be made and re-made.
I try to make my bed every day for mental health. Coming home to an unmade bed or a room with clothes all over will depress me.
I live in this apartment building, and everybody who lives there thinks of me as a housewife. People drop their babies off with me. Or I get notes: 'I'm going to be gone for three days. The keys are under the mat; take care of the cats.' Because they all think I'm home all the time.
I hate housework! You make the beds, you do the dishes and six months later you have to start all over again.
Mighty proud I am that I am able to have a spare bed for my friends.
I'm a bed monster.
As you make your bed, so you must lie in it.
I can't leave anywhere without making my bed; it's ingrained.