I Hate to Make The Bed

A common issue I face when getting up is having to make the bed. What is more annoying than the monotonous task completed every day, again and again? Yet every day, the sheets fight back, the pillows flee, the very bed itself struggles against thee. What goal is more noble than to free humanity itself from this ritual, sparing 5 minutes of every bed owning man, woman, and child. How much more could we, as a people, accomplish? I was forced to make the bed as a child, and each day my mother would tell me: ¨Shalom, you lazy slob, make the bed!¨ Each day, I would respond: ¨Please no, mother… I don't want too!” She always won, and, skulking, I would drag myself to remake the bed. Why, when it would have to be made all over again? I have wracked my mind day after day- in fact, almost every time I make the bed, I try to think of a way to fix the problem. At long last, I think I've found it.

Why not make cots, not beds, the standard? I do not understand the appeal of regular beds. But no, my mother refuses to buy cots, and instead she has father buy yet more beds. Why, only a few weeks ago we spent several hundred dollars on a massive, ungainly bed, when we could have spent less than $100 for a beautiful, perfect cot. It is inefficient to buy a bed, both monetarily and in terms of time consumption. I am pained to witness this atrocity against humanity. This is a stain that must be purified, no matter the cost. I would gladly sacrifice each and every bed in America to replace them with cots, and it would be far more than worth it. We must enact a simple, final solution to the bed problem in America: mass bed internment and extermination camps.

The bed is a parasite, sucking the time and energy of our people, and we must deal with it as such. This answer may seem evil, excessive, inhumane, but it is absolutely necessary. The construction of vast furnaces to facilitate their destruction and gaping landfills to store their remains will provide millions of jobs, helping our economy grow. The recycled metal, reclaimed from beds that need them no longer, can be used to fuel America's vast war machine, their fiber skins reintegrated into ropes, and their wooden skeletons burnt into charcoal and sold. In the future, I can only hope that humanity awakens to this threat and cleanses it from our midst. Say we do not, and that we allow the bed menace to spread even further.

Think of the children. Perhaps, in the far future, when sentient beds have arisen and overtaken humanity (a scenario not too far from the truth, if mechanization and the trend of adding computers to everything continues), our children will ask us “Why didn’t you stop them, when you had the chance?” Well, why didn’t you? But the shrewd listener will respond with something along the lines of “Well, why wouldn’t sentient cots overtake humanity?” The answer, my dear reader, is that cots are not being tailor made, roboticized, or waiting to overtake humanity. Beds, by contrast, are. Why, not too long ago I saw with mine own eyes an advertisement for a bed capable of moving up and down, even folding “to prevent snoring”. The fools! The imbeciles! How long is it before they plunge even farther into techno-heresy, adding a robot brain to determine when to move to better “prevent snoring”. And then, why not give it a vocalizer, for it to read bedtime stories at night, in a wicked parody of the perfect human form! But at that point, it would be far too late, the beds would achieve sentience, and all would be lost! Can you imagine- think, if you will, of being on the frontlines of a war with the beds. I have no doubt they would know all our military secrets, listening in on the half-asleep musings of generals and leaders, preparing to strike - I have no doubts they would use this information against us, turning us against each other, preparing for their eventual reign! Picture being on the front lines, waiting for the inevitable assault, watching the emotionless lines of bed-tanks rolling up over the strongest human fortifications yet remaining after every major population center was nuked into oblivion! Verily, it is a thought I want not in mine skull. Fear not, however, my brothers, for this is a scenario which can be prevented. Purge from yourselves each bed.

My personal home does not have a bed, it has instead a couch upon which I sleep. I have lectured my relatives time and time again on the wickedness beds bring, yet they insist in wallowing in their own sin despite my warnings. If you, my dear reader, get rid of your bed, you can rest assured that you will not have to make the bed in the morning, the knowledge of which is worth a thousand sleepless nights on the uncomfortable couch.