Hello and welcome back to the wonderful world of the Dogpound. So I need to ask my fellow pack members: when is a bed...

Hello and welcome back to the wonderful world of the Dogpound. So I need to ask my fellow pack members: when is a bed not a bed? Answer: When it turns into a closet. I can see by your puzzled looks that some of you did not make the connection, so let me explain. When I was little, the first chore of every morning was to make my bed. Nothing fancy like requiring hospital corners [which would come later when I served in the Army]. Just pull up the sheets and bedspread, smooth out all wrinkles and throw the pillow on top. Even when I went to college it was pretty much the same routine, although I will have to admit there were days when the bed never got made. Then I went into the Army to finish my officer’s training, and there were no off days. Everything had to have square corners. We were lucky to even sit or lie down on our perfectly made bunks. Then marriage, and since I was the first one up most mornings, the routine went to the bedside [so to speak] since I had an accomplice to help keep the bed in an orderly fashion. After a divorce, the need and desire to make the bed every morning, just to see it destroyed every evening, kind of petered out to only doing it when I cleaned house or had company coming over. Somewhere along the way, the scales tilted to making the bed only during spring cleaning, if I had company or was showing the house to potential buyers. Along with not being made, over time it also became a repository for my clothes. My bed is right next to the master bathroom, so it is handy to put any change of clothes on the bed where they can be retrieved for later use. I don’t have to hunt for a hanger or go searching in the closet for the work pants that I just wore yesterday, etc. They are laid out on the bed in a very visual and easy-to-reach fashion. Recently, I decided to take an inventory of what is currently on my bed. I have a pile of white gym socks, a pile of black socks waiting to be sorted [oh yes…the bed makes a good place to put clothes fresh out of the dryer], a short-sleeved jean shirt, a pair of jeans, a pair of dress shorts, a pair of gym shorts, a gym T-shirt, hat, and last but not least, a travel bag. Mind you, right next to my bed I also have a standing coat rack that I adorned with two T-shirts, a pair of pajama bottoms, a pair of knit sports pants, and a robe. Now you can clearly see why my bed has turned into a closet! Handy, visual, efficient, and works with my lifestyle…casual…real casual. LOL

“The only disability in life is a bad attitude.” – Dogpound Wisdom

A Missouri farmer passed away and left 17 mules to his three sons. The instructions left in his will said that the oldest boy was to get one-half, the second-oldest one-third, and the youngest one-ninth. The three sons, recognizing the difficulty of dividing 17 mules into these fractions, began to argue. Their uncle heard about the argument, hitched up his mule and drove out to settle the matter. He added his mule to the 17, making 18. The oldest therefore got one-half, or nine, the second-oldest got one-third, or six, and the youngest son got one-ninth, or two. Adding up 9, 6 and 2 equals 17. The uncle, having settled the argument, hitched up his mule and drove home.
That is all I have for today. As always, be good, do good, be safe, and remember, if you make your own bed, your clothes may just have to lie on it!

– JR