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..
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