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Sometimes I lie awake because the mattress feels too soft, or the blanket is too thin. I am often left sleepless by the confusion of contact with another human body. But regardless of the mattress itself, sleeping in someone else's bed or a motel, feels as oddly uncomfortable to me as wearing a stranger's underwear. The bed is the most intimate piece of furniture in a home – the daily imprint of a body and its scent never quite disappears, no matter how often the sheets are washed. We mark our territory on our bedding with strands of hair stuck to the comforter, drool on the pillowcase, sticky films from unwashed bodies. Memories of the beds I've slept in are redolent of insomnia and sweat, of weary eyes staring at the static ceiling of strange dark rooms, of lying uncomfortably motionless while listening to the hypnotic breathing of the person beside me. In a few weeks, I will be going home to visit numerious relatives, they all live far apart from one another, so we usually stay at about 4 or 5 different homes. I love my bed but sleeping in a strange bed gets on my nerves. How about you.
