The Power of a Well-Made Bed

Colan and I should be miserable by now. We should not be able to live in a camper full-time together. Yet, somehow, it's working and working well. It shouldn't work primarily because he's a classic pack rat, or at least was, and I am a set-things-free person. I also tend to have a particular neurosis regarding everything having a place and being in said place. Even behind closed drawers, thank you very much. It will mess with my head if I know it's a mess in there. Suddenly, I have Superman's x-ray vision.

In rooted down times, I would have told you that this was Colan's problem, not mine, because when would pack rat-ism be preferable to order? (I didn't mean for that to be dripping with judgment. Suppose there's ever a zombie apocalypse or suddenly a need for every iteration of every mobile phone ever created, plus the maddening tangle of chargers associated. Colan's ways will presumably be preferable then.) But months of living on the road have shown me that my home will never be exactly how I want it. No magical formula makes everything fit just so while also being easily accessible. I have to be ok with prominently displayed dumbbells and cat trees being part of my living room decor. That alone would have given me hives before.

What has helped me, a typically chill person who turns into The Hulk when my home doesn't make me feel at home? It's so simple: A perfectly made bed. We've heard forever how making your bed every morning has mental health benefits, and I've always fallen into that camp anyway because of the aforementioned neurosis. Still, it is of even greater importance now. Our little bedroom cave (but with lots of windows!) is my saving grace. I found the niftiest tool on Amazon— The Bed Tucker. I'm enamored with it, which is saying something because I generally dislike specialized, single-purpose gadgets. Where do you put them all?! (I'm compelled to mention this is not a paid sponsorship; I just feel very strongly that you need to know about this thing. If you've crammed a king bed into your rig, I know how much you're cussing.)

I make a will-pass-high-end-hotel-standards-as-long-as-you-don't-count-the-pillowcase-wrinkles bed every morning. No matter the state of the rest of Bruynie (our rig), it ensures the bedroom feels "normal." It's calm, pretty, orderly, and a bit designed, and often, I walk in there and just look. It makes me smile, and it increases the space between my shoulders and my ears almost instantly. It's a way to manage my expectations, and I'm confident it makes me an easier person to live with. And I haven't left Millie, our cat who is hell-bent on unmaking and burrowing under my perfectly made bed, at a highway rest stop yet, so there's that. How does such a little body cause so much destruction??? We'll save that for another day.

So I say, find whatever little space you can and make it what you need. Maybe it's a perfectly made bed for you, perhaps something different. Allow that this lifestyle won't ever be an Instagram-worthy, picture perfect one, at least not in the wild. Letting all that go makes room for so much more! And just don't kill the cat.

Hope to see you out there! -CL