When I’m away from home, you’d think I would miss my parents, but I don’t. I guess it’s because I see them WAY TOO MUCH now. I miss my bed when I’m away from home. It has its own sense of familiarity. It’s messy, never made up. Maybe for a few hours after I change the sheets, but that’s about it. Why make an effort to put something together when I’m just going to ransack it again later? Luckily the girlfriend and I have the same mindset when it comes to this, so when the move-in happens, there’s not going to be “UGH, why didn’t you make the bed?!?”
While a DoubleTree Hotel bed might be comfortable as fuck [Don’t get me started on them awesome pillows.] it’s not MY bed.