When I stay at my parents’s house, I sleep on an IKEA futon in the smallest bedroom, which used to be mine. It’s not a very comfortable futon. A hard mattress with a dip at one end, so you have to be sure your head is pointing the right way or your shoulder will fall in. It’s good enough for a weekend. It’s fine for a week.
But I love my bed at home. With my soft mattress and not-flat pillows. I love my bed perhaps a little too much.
It’s easier to get up in the morning when I’m not in my bed. There’s no familiarity, no connection. Other beds don’t bring me comfort in the same way. I had the idea that to help me get up, I should get an uncomfortable bed. But I’d probably get used to it eventually.
I came home tonight after being gone since Friday. It was only 9, but I got right into my bed. This is how it’s supposed to feel.