I love the feeling of fresh sheets. It takes only a few minutes to change the sheets... I could do it every day... but I don't. I don't even do it as often as my mom did. Why do I deny myself this basic good feeling?
No doubt there are other simple pleasures I could easily indulge regularly. Would that make me happier? I'm guessing it would. Why do we not seek more happiness? That seems as though it would be a basic drive.
Another simple pleasure tonight is these pillowcases with hand crocheted lace. I don't know who's hands made this lace but I'm going to appreciate them tonight as I drift off to sleep.
2 comments:
The hand crocheted lace on the pillowcases in my cedar chest were done by my husband's grandmother. The embroidered cutwork lace was done by mine.
The are never on the beds. After your post, that may change. Thank you for the reminder.
I have some things I don't use - that I am preserving. But, by and large, I use all the pretty things I own. Otherwise they never get to fulfill their intended purpose. I bought these at a sale somewhere. They had been used before I got them, but obviously a family somewhere had let them go, which I just cannot imagine. But, I like to think that whoever made them knows that they're being enjoyed and appreciated once again.
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