I was thinking about my bed today and why I’m so in love with it. I’m one of those people who could conduct business from bed all day long. While I’m admitting to that, I might as well add that I could probably stay in my pajamas all day, too. I like to be cosy and comfortable when I’m home.

My bed is basically my command center. I do my important reading there — books, magazines, catalogues, and of course blogs. I also pay the bills from there. I make and take calls, and text from there. I play Words with Friends from bed.

I watch TV from there, too. I know you’re not supposed to have a TV in your bedroom, so they say, but I like it. If I’m watching a show like Mad Men or Downton Abbey, I’ll usually bring up a bowl of popcorn or a bag of pretzels, sometimes a peanut butter and jelly sandwich with a glass of ice cold milk. (Nothing I’m proud of – in the morning I usually have major regrets and shame myself.) Most often I have the news on. The drone of the anchor’s voices usually puts me to sleep. When I’m done with the TV, I close the doors to the armoire and it’s gone.

When I’m sick, there’s no better place to be. My bed is a heavenly cloud of crisp white sheets, chunky pillows, a down comforter and starched white duvet. It is my sanctuary.

I sleep and I dream there…

Now for the real crazy admission… I think my readers should probably sit down. Here goes… When I meet people and make friends, I have a crazy desire to take them to my bed. No, nothing like that. I just feel like I would prefer to talk to people while reclining in bed. I imagine if their head was on the pillow next to mine and we were talking, it would be so much more intimate, comfortable, real and fun. It makes me giggle just thinking about it. This is not Lisa trying to be funny, I seriously would prefer to converse with people while lying down in bed. Along the same lines, I also enjoy talking to people in lounge chairs or on a towel at the beach. 194e0c0447e984cecc80d33c4fcfe753

Is there a name for this strange desire?  I don’t think so. My daughter is one of my favorite people to get in bed with. Not only does she make me hysterical with laughter, but she is a super cosy girl.  When I was deathly ill during my Vegas birthday debacle, it was Lily’s arrival and presence in my hotel bed that turned the tide and made me well.

Interestingly, I think Lily is similar to me in this way — maybe even more so? She is a Rabbit in the Chinese horoscope. Apparently Rabbits like to nest and have the habit of getting into people’s beds. It actually said that in the book we were reading. I’m pretty sure this is how she met her husband at school. And again, it’s not what you’re thinking. You can get away with this when you’re twenty. It’s funny and cute. A boundary breaker? Oh yeah, it definitely is, but it also strips away all the formality and externals and reduces people down to the real essence of who they are. Conversations in bed are always so much more entertaining for some reason.

Let me be very clear. Do I get in other people’s beds? No. I don’t do this. Do people get in mine? No. Would I like them to? Yes, but only people I like. It’s just a strange desire/sensation of wanting to be the most real with people and for some reason, putting your head on the pillow next to mine seems to accomplish that.