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