My mother worries about me, though I never worry about me. The difference between us, I would say, is a slight matter of perspective. Perspective and awareness. For instance, she worries about me because I never make my bed in the mornings. But frankly, I don't see the point in making one's bed every morning when it's just destined to be messed up again at night. Besides, I rarely notice that my bed isn't made. So it doesn't bother me, but it bothers her.
Although now that I think about it, awareness is perhaps the larger factor.
While in Quebec, I shared a room with Melody, a pianist from Edmonton. We got along like peas in a pod, and spent many nights roaring in laughter. Of course, upon entering our room, one always knew which side of the room was hers because her bed was always made, and my bed featured the blanket tossed to one side in a bundle. So naturally, it was more difficult to catch items like underwear strewn across my bed since everything blended in with the bedding. One night, as my friend Tristan headed over to sit on my bed, I suddenly noticed a very vulnerable pair of underwear, nonchalantly abandoned in the centre of my bed. In one swift leap, I retrieved my underwear before Tristan caught on to what happened. I breathed a sigh of relief, until Melody, who saw me leap, laughed incredulously and cried, "I can't believe you didn't see your underwear there! It's been lying on your bed for three days!" Horrified, with wide eyes, I looked over at Tristan who was laughing. Myself incredulous, I retorted, "How is it that you notice the life of my underwear?" She only kept laughing and asked how I couldn't notice for three whole days.
Later, as the three of us were chatting, Tristan stopped in mid sentence. Puzzled, he looked at my blanket and the duvet cover which holds the blanket. "Rebecca, your blanket is coming out of its duvet cover." He held it up for me to see. Sure enough, seventy-five percent of my blanket was hanging out of its duvet cover. I said, "Oh yeh, you don't say", and shrugged. With that, Melody piped in and cried once again, "I can't believe you didn't see the blanket coming out of its cover! It's been slowly coming out -- little by little -- every day for two weeks!" This time, Tristan joined in: "You mean, you never noticed that you've just been sleeping with the empty cover over you? The blanket's at the foot of your bed." My eyes shifted between the two of them. I scratched my head, "Well, no." Tristan and Melody burst out laughing. I laughed too, but they laughed a little too long for my comfort. I just mumbled, "How is it that you notice the life of my blanket?" Melody only kept laughing and, gasping for air, asked how I couldn't notice for two whole weeks.
My friend Jon once asked observantly, "How do you survive?"
I came home and told my mother what happened in Quebec. She looked thoroughly unimpressed and rolled her eyes. But, I wasn't bothered.
