Daily Ick: The Bed Requires a Cushion Eviction

Imagine arriving at bedtime to find the bed beautifully made. The duvet is smooth, the lamps are warm, and an impressive gathering of decorative cushions occupies the place where a person might reasonably go.

You remove one. Then another. Beneath those is a smaller cushion, apparently employed to supervise the larger ones.

This illustrative bedroom has excellent presentation and a surprisingly complicated admissions process.

Somewhere under here is a bed

Today's nomination is the cushion arrangement that must be dismantled every night and reconstructed every morning.

A cushion is lovely. Several cushions can also be lovely. The tiny ick begins when getting into bed involves relocating a soft furnishing department.

Where do they go? The chair is already hosting tomorrow's clothes. The floor feels disrespectful to something with piping. A neat stack briefly suggests itself, then tips over with the quiet confidence of an arrangement that knows you will fix it.

There is now a cushion beside the door, another beneath the chair, and one whose purpose remains entirely ceremonial.

You have not gone to bed. You have opened a temporary warehouse.

Morning brings the reverse operation. The larger cushions return first, followed by their smaller associates. One must sit diagonally, because facing forward would apparently reveal a troubling lack of ambition.

The little ick is not decoration. It is a decorative choice quietly becoming a recurring chore for somebody who did not apply for the role.

A fair defence

Making a room pleasant is a perfectly good use of time. Texture, colour and a carefully arranged bed can make a home feel welcoming. Pleasure does not have to prove its practical value.

Some cushions are genuinely useful for sitting comfortably, too. Nobody else gets to decide which makes your evening better.

And if the person who enjoys the arrangement happily handles its daily travels, there may be no problem at all. A harmless ritual is allowed to remain harmless.

The useful question in a shared bedroom is whether everyone has somewhere comfortable to sleep, and whether the nightly clearing has become an unspoken assignment.

Ick or innocent?

Our subjective verdict: innocent decoration, with a small bedtime ick when the cushions acquire more accommodation rights than the sleepers.

Keep the ones you love. Give them an easy overnight home. Perhaps let the smallest supervisor take early retirement.

Ick or innocent? Does a bed full of cushions feel inviting, or like a tiny removal job in pyjamas?

*Daily Ick is original observational humour. This scene is illustrative, not a reader submission or a report about identifiable people.*