One of my least favorite songs (I like it; I just prefer his more acerbic lyrics) is “You’ve Got a Friend in Me.” However, the line “miles and miles from your nice warm bed,” no matter where or what time of day I hear it, makes me want to crawl off to bed and pull the covers cozily up to my chin.
I haven’t slept in my own nice warm bed for over two weeks. Rusty the dog can’t manage the high jump into my captain’s bed—the kind with drawers beneath the mattress frame—and I’m afraid he’ll sit beside it half the night whining. Fortunately, Mom has a wonderful futon in the living room that folds out into a full-size bed; my captain’s bed is a rather narrow single. I’m just as cozy on the futon as I am in my room, except Rusty goes to bed before I do and parks his fat butt in the middle of the mattress. That makes it hard for me to slide my fat butt under the quilt comfortably. After a few nights of restless sleep because I was perched on the rounded edge of the futon mattress about to roll to the floor (it’s hard to move a sleeping dog, especially one with a pinched nerve, when it lies there like a sack of rocks), I finally learned to enter the bed from the back corner, usually striking my knee on the console table, but that’s okay. Once I’ve staked out a section of the mattress, Rusty usually winds up snuggling up next to me, and it’s quite lovely. When Mom rises sometime between six and seven a.m., I fold up the futon and bedding and trudge back to my own bed to finish my night’s sleep. (I usually stay up until two or three in the morning working.)
All this talk about nice warm beds reminds me of other beds I’ve enjoyed. I loved when Grandma made a bed for me on the couch; or, for more adventurous sleeping, on the old-fashioned canvas cot. Grandma had a luscious blanket she used for me that was so warm, so soft. When Mom lived with my late stepdad and Diamondqueen in a little house in western Hamilton County, I’d sleep on the couch there as well when I stayed overnight. The cushions were plump but just supportive enough, so I’d literally sink into slumber. There were also a few especially nice hotel beds, especially when I was traveling alone and could spread out and hog the cover sheet and blanket.
I absolutely love to sleep, including naps, so small wonder my fondness for a “nice warm bed” knows no bounds.
NUDGE: Write about your favorite nice warm bed. Don’t assume it has to involve a sumptuous mattress and bedding. Maybe your coziest night was in a sleeping bag under the stars. Maybe it had nothing to do with physical conditions and everything to do with the company who shared your bed. Indulge your powers of description by including plenty of sensory detail. Make your reader long for just such a delicious snooze.