Last night, my husband happened to climb into bed at the exact same time as I did.  We usually go to bed around the same time, but one of us is still brushing teeth or checking on the kids or something, so we don’t physically get into the bed together.

As I often do, I reached down and pulled the comforter closer to the head of the bed. 

“Oh, thank you,” my husband gushed, “I always feel like I have to curl up at the bottom of the bed to keep warm.”

Ahem.

My husband generally makes the bed.  I almost always change the sheets, and sometimes I make the bed if my husband isn’t home or if there was still a warm body in it when he left for work.  But most mornings, making the bed is a little act of service that my husband does for me, and I love him for it.

Now, if you have ever done something nice for somebody and had them criticize you for it, perhaps you did your lazy, filthy sweet boyfriend’s laundry for no reason other than because he had been wearing the same outfit for 2 weeks you were trying to be nice and he then told you that you folded all the clothes wrong and even the method by which you paired the socks was incorrect, you might recognize that a gift of service is a gift and should not be received in any way other than with supreme gratitude.

And Heaven forbid you should marry this young punk man, I guarantee that he will make you change the way you fold your towels.

{This, of course, happened to a friend of a friend and not me (oh, no), and I am merely relating what I learned from her experience.}

So, even though, every night, the comforter would slip a bit down toward the foot of the bed, and every morning, my husband would neatly make the bed with the comforter a bit lower, I did not point this out to him.  I thanked him graciously, and every few nights, I would haul the comforter closer to the top with, I assure you, no malice or irritation at all.  I am truly grateful for my husband’s act of service.

But then he caught me pulling the comforter up, and I pointed out to him that when I change the sheets, the comforter is at the top of the bed.  I gently reminded him that he makes the bed, usually, and pointed out that the comforter slips lower every night.

He did not know that, and promised me he would do a better job making the bed.  He was so contrite, that I wonder for how long he had been irritated at how I placed the comforter toward the foot of the bed, but had been suppressing his irritation out of love.  Old married couples do that, you know.  Each offers up annoyance at how things are done, thinking that the other person likes it that way…but meanwhile the spouse thinks you like it that way and is equally annoyed. 

My husband will laugh when he reads this post and I tell him that we have been living an Abilene paradox.

This morning, Mary was curled up in our bed when he left for work.  I pulled the covers up with one hand while holding her with my other arm, so the bed is not well made.  Later I will fix it.  And I’m looking forward to an agreeably well made bed from here on out.