An unmade bed sets the tone for my day.
When I wake up early enough, spritely enough, well-rested enough to actually make our bed, I feel alive, ready to take on the world, ready for a neighbour to knock on the door knowing I won’t have to hide should they spot the trail of toys and general disarray lurking behind the door chime.
Today was not one of those days. While I was out of bed at 5:50am, showered before 6:00 and had a steaming hot bowl of oatmeal ready for blueberries by 6:05am, something always seemed to take priority over making the bed and my mood is completely linked to that bed being made or left untouched. If it’s not made by noon, I really might as well wait to make it until moments before climbing back into it for the night.
It’s a reflection of who I am, who we are as a family and how the rest of the day will play out if I don’t get around to making the bed. If someone drops by unannounced and that bed is made, I’m giving the tour. If it’s not made, everything else seems to looks much worse and I find myself sheepishly closing doors and kicking rubber balls down the hall to create the illusion of some organization.
Today, the bed was dishevelled and so was I.
I left the house with damp hair, pony-tail and didn’t feel worthy of taking the girls to the orange castle for groceries, castles are for royalty and I hadn’t even made my bed.
We opted instead for a lesser store, a closer store, one that offers just the basics.
The first thing I spotted as I jammed the cart through the stiff metal bar was a huge display of raspberries, my favourite of the berries. The price was 3 for $5 and I thought I was dreaming. I considered sending Ellie to fetch a second cart so we could load up the freezer but knew she would need to be in JK for at least two days consecutively before attempting the Fort Knox style quarter insertion mechanism.
I picked up the first quart and half-way into the cart, something caught my eye. Upon closer inspection, I noticed a green, mouldy berry in the centre. Back it went for some other less discerning shopper and I, idiotically searched for a better tub to act as the base for the pyramid of raspberries I was prepared to purchase. Forgetting for just a second where I was, punishing myself for not making my bed, nowhere near the castle or the possibility of fresh produce.
The next quart was nearly entirely covered in white fuzz. Hmmmm.
Third attempt, white fuzz, possibly pink berry beneath but I couldn’t guarantee it. This time, the mould was growing on the inside and outside of the berries and also the container.
I looked up at the sign. I guess I was expecting to see “3 for $5 limited special offer for the rare white, furry raspberry” but there was no such additional information.
“3 for $5” did seem a reasonable price for something that might make you and your family very, very sick but I’m thinking they could continue slashing and surprisingly still be left with a pile of mushy white spores.
I glanced over to the handsome young woman mopping the spill beside the tomatoes expecting her to shrug in agreement but I had more non-verbal communication with her slop bucket.
The raspberry tower was so high it almost buried the 3 for $5 sign. The mould spores were playing freeze tag in between the containers on all sides and high-fiving the competitively priced signage.
That’s what I get for not making the bed.
