Posted in A Moment in My Life

“The One Day”

A Moment in My Life – Thursday, March 24, 2022

Jeannie Yee Davis

I ignored the 5 o’clock alarm yesterday morning, planning to take the ten-minute snooze. I just needed a few more Zzzz. The night before, just as I climbed into bed, I got a second wind with a strong desire to write. When my muse calls, I answer. I surely don’t want to tick her off. She might go on hiatus and never return, thinking what’s the point. I flipped on my MacBook and wrote for half an hour before lights out. I laid my head on the pillow, closed my eyes, and skipped into dreamland. At that moment, it was worth it. Until morning, I wasn’t feeling so confident that I made the right call to stay up as I ignored the alarm and fell effortlessly back into slumberland. I barely closed my eyes when I cracked opened an eyelid expecting my nightstand clock to read 5:09 or something. Then I could sleep for another minute. I did not expect 6:00 on the clock display. “I overslept!” I kicked off my covers and spilled out of bed. I’m up! I’m up!

I have an ambitious routine to adhere to as it was already. IF I had risen on schedule, I would’ve had just enough time to get my morning agenda done before getting serious with my writing projects at 8 o’clock. Since I lost an hour of productivity, I needed to cut corners. The most obvious task to skip was, making my bed, which I meticulously do every morning. It’s the OCD in me. No, I’m not saying that I’m OCD. Well, maybe, just a little? 

I left my unmade bed, headed to the bathroom and closet, and got myself ready. Cutting corners there, but I’ll spare you the trivial details. The whole time I readied myself, I couldn’t let the unmade bed rest. They weren’t kidding that old habits are so hard to break. I kept brushing the bed thought out of my mind as I mentally planned my day to no avail. Here I go again, that ding dong “unmade bed” pushed its way to the forefront of my mind, flicking away the relevant thoughts I needed to focus on, but what was I thinking about? Okay, fine, I give up. Let’s talk about the bed.

Enough, already! What is it about the bed? I mulled over the unmade bed, with that nagging feeling like I had forgotten something. But, what? It was useless trying to figure it out. Today was the first time I ever skipped making the bed, or maybe this was the second time. When was the first? Since Mark passed, I’m sure I must have missed a day. Maybe during the PTSD period? It’s possible. I don’t know. Oh! I remember now! I was a freshman in college, living at home. And I overslept. Back in the day, I was never late. I was on time or early but never late. Those were the days. Today? Not so much—I try. Let’s leave it at that. That morning, I flew out of the house without making my bed. 

It was a long day. Classes from eight o’clock to eleven. Streetcar commute to Harcourt Brace Jovanovich for work noon to five o’clock. That evening when I got home, I learned that Grandma, from on my mother’s side, came to visit. What! Grandma came to visit? She never comes to visit. I immediately snapped my head towards my bedroom, and there was my gigantic unmade bed protruding from the semi-opened doorway! I know I closed that door before I left the house. The unmade bed swelled in my face, squeezing the sweat of embarrassment from within me. I could not believe that the one day in my whole life that I didn’t make my bed was the one day Grandma came to visit. I will never live down the humiliation. My bruised ego hung low as I imagined the snickering all over town with fingers pointing at me. I tell you, some of us are such drama queens. 

Although Grandma never said a word. Nobody ever said a word, but I carried that shame all my life. Why? I know it’s no big deal. Nobody cares. Nobody remembers—except me. Today’s incident proved that it continued to be a thorn in my side. Lucky for me, nobody came over yesterday when my bed was unmade. Now you know why I’m meticulous about making my bed every day. You never know, just like long ago on the one day.

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