Lets take the concept of making one's bed.
Each morning, every morning you make your bed, don't you?
Why? You will crawl into it approximately 12 + hours later and mess it all up again.
Some say, why bother?
But bother I must! Nothing makes me feel less like leaving the bedroom and starting the day like an unmade bed! I smooth the spread almost fanatically free of wrinkles and see that the hem is hanging evenly, stepping back with a critical eye.
Somehow it seems to me that in the back of my head, I believe the day will be neater too if that bed is shipshape!
Or is it the desire to banish the night? Any evidence that the darkness was here and may return.
No, for me I think its just a desire to get one small step in the day off to a good start! No Freudian overtones, just, thank God, one thing under control!
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