I frequently mention that I’m grateful for my cozy bed. It’s nothing special. No sleep number scientific mattress, no fancy duvet cover, no frills. It took me a long time to acknowledge and develop preferences with regard to fabrics and textures. But I finally allowed myself luxury in my bed.

Part of it was my mother in her last year of life saying sadly that she’d only ever slept on white sheets. We instantly bought her some gold satin sheets, and a hot pink cotton set as well.

I’m grateful for lilac-colored eucalyptus sheets, a long body pillow in a cotton case, and a silk pillowcase, on a soft mattress, in a safe room, in a solid house. I’m grateful that most nights I fall asleep easily and sleep well through the night, and sometimes enjoy a vivid dream life. I’m grateful for my bed. I’m grateful for climbing in between those freshly line-dried clean sheets, and no, I don’t iron them.