Saturday was nothing special. I washed the sheets. I waited until Saturday because now that I'm in my third trimester, it's harder for me to bend over and put sheets on the bed just right.
So Eric helped. We did the sheets. Then continued making the bed. I smoothed the downe comforter, started adding all the pillows, the throw. (I've previously shown Eric the correct way to place the pillows on the bed, so that they look crisp and straight, with no folded-under corners. He's been great. A big help.)
I stood on the side of the bed as Eric made a sudden movement, then thought better of it. He gave me this look (one I can't exactly explain in words, but I knew exactly what was going through his head), then he flung his body on top of the newly made bed. "What's the use of having a bed if you can't lie in it?" he asked when he heard my gasp.
"You can--at night," I said.
He knew it would bother me. We both kind of laughed. He took a phone call, whilst I stood by, waiting for him to get up so I could pull the comforter taut--erasing the Eric-shaped dent he'd made into it.
I wish I could relegate all bed-making duties to him, but I know it will drive me more crazy than him. Then I'll just be lurking about the house, waiting for him to leave our bedroom (or the house) so that I can go fix the bed. I guess this is what marriage is--a compromise. And you have to compromise some of the things you want, even if that is a perfectly made bed.
