In a previous post, I mentioned my incessant need to make the bed, not only to keep things tidy, but as a form of mental therapy.
Weird, I know.
My goal here is not to simply recap the previous post (how boring would that be?) instead I'll just hit the high points for the sake of clarification. Basically, I'm the bed-maker in my family. I do it because it's a job I've inherited and also because, over the course of 25 years of marriage, I've discovered making the bed in the morning sort of sets the tone for the rest of my day.
My wife, on the other hand, is a completely different kind of person. She's one of those self-starters who just gets up and starts working, no motivation required.
Anyway ...