A Story from my ‘Mysteries from a Housewife’ Series
One of my very first housewife duties that I perform after I get out of bed each morning, following turning on the coffee pot, is to make my bed. I’m a bit OCD, you see, and making one’s bed is a must for someone like me. I don’t know how people can live with themselves by going about their daily routine without FIRST making their beds. I bristle at the site of visiting a person and by happenstance see their bed not made. I know, I know … plenty of people don’t make their beds and the wrath of God doesn’t fall on them. Still, I’m convinced my husband would think I was taken over by aliens if he ever came home from work and saw our bed not made.
It is about this bed-making routine that brought about one of the greatest mysteries of my housewife life. I love a good mystery and pride myself on the fact that I can solve any mystery novel half way through. The same can be said of any TV mystery or movie on the big screen. It drives my husband absolutely nuts. Early on in our nearly 35 year marriage he would venture to bet me on my predictions. But, after losing big time, he had learned his lesson and never touches a bet with me on guessing the outcome of a who-done-it. I am sad to say that the ‘Bed Ruffle Mystery’, as it’s now come to be known, had me stumped for quite a while.
While making our bed each morning I start at my side pulling the top sheet up to the head of the bed. I work my way around the bed to my husband’s side and then I return to my side to do the same with the comforter. On one particular morning, as I approached my husband’s side of the bed pulling up the comforter, I noticed that a portion of the bed ruffle on his side was tucked up into the metal frame that holds the box spring. I pulled it back out and straightened it nice and neat. Lo and behold, the very next day the same thing occurred. “What on earth?” I said, and then proceeded to correct the disturbed ruffle once again. This went on for many a day. I must confess that there was a brief moment in time where I pondered whether my husband might be putting something under the mattress and inadvertently disturbing the bed ruffle. You know, like some teenager with a dirty little secret that needed hidden. I brushed this thought away immediately and did not even bother to look as I trust my husband implicitly and something about looking would have given the thought credence. Still, it kept happening day after day, shy of the odd day here or there where the bed ruffle remained appropriately near the floor.
One day I finally got up the courage to pose this mystery to my husband. I had not till this day because I prided myself on being the Sherlock Holmes of housewifery. But I set aside my deerstalker for the time being in order to get this mystery solved. He had no clue and even offered up that he was not hiding anything after I ‘humorously’ admitted about that thought crossing my mind—briefly. Back to the drawing board. The next time it happened I got out my cell phone and took a picture of it and sent it to him just to prove I was not crazy and this was actually happening. His happy face emoji in return did little to settle my nerves.
It took another daily routine to render the glorious, “Aha!” upon figuring out the ‘Bed Ruffle Mystery’. Each night when we go to bed, my husband and I pray together. As the spiritual head of our household, he prays out loud every night. He sits on the bed and for 40+ minutes he prays for family, friends, organizations that do God’s work, missionaries, world events, leaders, etc. He faithfully does this every night, shy of the occasional night here or there where he may be too exhausted from a particularly hard, late day at work, or he might not feel well, in which I then pray. On one particular night, I noticed that as he sat on his side of the bed, he propped his left leg up on the metal frame of the bed for a more comfortable position for his ever increasingly painful back. I glanced over to see him doing this and belted out a hearty, “AHA!!!” The look on his face, while he tried to benevolently pray, was priceless. I pointed to his left leg and said, “Don’t you see it?” I told him to sit perfectly still while I jumped out of bed and went over to his side and victoriously pointed to his toes and bed ruffle tucked into the metal frame of our bed. There you have it folks! The Case of the Ruffled Bed Ruffle was solved. The odd nights where he was too tired to pray were nights that I sat and prayed while he laid there and no toe-tucking was done.
Now each morning when I see the toe-tucked bed ruffle, I am reminded that it is due to a loving husband who faithfully prays each night for family, friends and many others. 🙂 Stay tuned for another exciting adventure in my Mysteries from a Housewife series.