Yes, THAT bed.
The bed in the master cabin on THE JOURNEY.
The one designed by a master sadist with no concept of bed-making.
The six-sided one with no walk around space.
The one that would need custom fitted sheets.
The one that desperately needs a new mattress. No guesses as to the cost of a custom made six-sided mattress. The one that requires the agility of an ape; the flexibility of a dancer; the antics of an acrobat and the patience of a saint, not to mention the blessings of Father Time.
And then it still looks like you pulled it straight as you ran out the door to catch the 5.30 am shuttle to work.
I’m a fast learner. So I estimated the length of sheet I’d need at the top.
Shake sheet out.
Allow for required length at top.
Lie on stomach.
Tuck in top. (Side One.)
Undulate backwards on all fours.
Avoid bumping head on ceiling.
Tush in air. (Tush bumping is less hazardous to your health than head bumping.)
Oh yes, I forgot to mention that bed to ceiling clearance is about two feet at the top and three feet at its best.
Halfway down. (Tuck in sides two and three.)
Find there is more sheet on side three than side two. Make do.
Slither down. (Tuck in side four and five.) Ehhh. Make do some more. Improvise.
Slither off bed.
Tuck in bottom.
Correction, try to tuck in bottom. (Side six.)
Discover I’d tucked in too much at top (side one) and do not have enough for bottom (side six.)
Tug and tug and tug.
Realize it’s not going to happen.
Breathe Deep. Very Deep.
Somehow I thought of that fitting a Square Peg into a Round Hole.
Laughing at jokes you don’t really get;
Staying at a party where the company is going south;
Remembering your younger self trying desperately to be accepted.
I never did fit in.
I never really learned my lesson.
And now that I’m wiser it doesn’t matter anymore.
That I never fitted in anywhere.
Like it doesn’t matter that the sheet doesn’t fit.
Yes, I guess there are lessons to be learned from making a six-sided bed.
And I took away from this song that we really all fit together.