Making the Bed

When I was in sixth grade, I had a sleepover at BR’s house. I don’t remember much about what we did that night, but I remember the next morning very vividly. I remember his mom calling us out to breakfast, and BR stopped me at the door to his room. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked. 

“To breakfast. Why?” 

“You need to make your bed first. You should never go to someone else’s house and leave the bed unmade. It’s rude and disrespectful.” 

Stomach rumbling, I begrudgingly made the bed. It’s funny how things stick with you. Thirty years later, and I not only remember that incident, but I still make the bed every morning when I’m at someone else’s house. I can’t say that I do it very often at my own house, but that’s another matter altogether.