I haven't showered. Laundry is piled on the floor. Book work stacked on the table and in piles. It's tax time you know. And the beat of that clock is ticking. I can feel it. I make my bed. Yes. In the middle of all the chaos. There is one thing. Constant. I make my bed. What does that say about me? I am sure psycho therapists would have a field day. Of all the things that need to get done. I make my bed. Every day. With out fail. I wash my sheets too. Almost ... View Post