kleio

I love bed.

Honestly, I think I've somehow managed to make myself completely in love with bed. Any bed, really. My futon bed, my mattress on the floor, my boyfriend's bed (which was formerly my mother's bed...) I just love bed. I love sheets, and blankets, and pillows. I love heat pads that keep my feet warm.

I love propping myself up with a whole bunch of pillows, and piling a whole bunch of blankets on top of me, and curling up with all the lights off and watching Zatoichi movies (the black and white ones are best with all the lights off, don't ask me why, they just are.)

I love coming home after work and collapsing as soon as I've got my shoes and pants off, and gradually removing the rest of my clothes as I get the ambition. I love those first few moments when I lay on my back and feel the ache just ooze out of my lower and mid-back.

I love curling up with my pillows on either side of me, under the covers, and cuddling them as though they were a person - just completely wrapping myself around these pillows, pulling them closer and closer to me until I can feel them at my front and back, protective, soft, and a little warm.

I love waking up early on a Saturday morning, dozing, loving the feel of a whole day of empty hours, and always that soft, jersey-knit pillowcase against my cheek.

I love feeling of my cats when they curl up next to my body above the covers, or how they tickle my breasts, neck, and back with their whiskers when they decide to investigate under the sheets.

I love... absolutely love... fucking in bed. Being ground into the mattress, rolling around so easily, getting tangled in the sheets, and being able to collapse, exhausted, and close my eyes and not have to worry about moving until the goddamn alarm goes off that will drag me out of bed.

I love being sick and bedridden - sliding in and out of consciousness in a NyQuil-drugged haze, sweating in near discomfort from the heat of a fever, or just from the sheer amount of blankets piled on top of me. I love burrowing down, down, and sleeping that delicous heavy sleep that comes with a true cold, where you could swear there are marshmallows morphing into toothpicks in the palm of your hand, and you're always gripping them as tight as you can, and always, always, that bed is rock solid and soft beneath your sweaty-sticky-gooey body.

I love bed. What do you love?