Sheets

Waking up in his Frette Hellas sheets Steven thought he should feel more rested. He didn't wake up to stare at the clock 3 times as usual. He believes he made it the entire night. Sitting up he realizes he started the night on the opposite side of his king size bed. Looks like I was being chased by a snapping turtle.

Wrestling himself free from his swaddled sheet burrito Steven gets out of bed grumbling under his breath chastising his assistant. She was asked to go out and purchase him the softest sheets she could find. I think she settled for the most expensive. At fourteen hundred pounds I should be sleeping like my grandmothers twenty-year-old calico.

Studying happiness the past few years has sent Steve on his own quest for the elusive feelings that Hollywood infers is as easy to come by as walking into a Starbucks and locking eyes with the mysterious blond waiting for her Chai Latte. Steven wanted to see if sleeping with sheets that were as soft as snuggling with a companion could help those lone rangers in bed feel not so lonely. It isn't working.

After his morning run the shower is his time for transcendental meditation. Not quite sure if the monks would consider this true meditation but multitasking while maintaining routine brings a victory smile to his face. One of the many podcasts he’s used in his studying the path to happiness talked about being self-aware, being inately happy with who you are as an individual, before you can exude happiness to those around you. One exercise the podcast gave was to write your name and draw a heart around it on the mist covered mirror or shower wall. He told himself how corny it sounded but in the name of research he agreed to put all theories to the test. Covering the glass misty walls with teeny bopper hearts, some with his full name, some his initials and tiny ones with a lonely ‘S’. As he drew every heart, he internalized a self-love that he swore he’d never share with another living soul, too embarrassing to explain. Promising himself to give it at least six months before he moves on to a different experiment. He did feel a difference but so minor he couldn’t tell if it was this stupid exercise or his runners high.

A Neuroscience study he recently read asked the question, what is the happiest age group. Is it childhood, nine-ish, not a care in the world but having fun. Or is it the twenties. Finally getting out from under your parents and exploring adult freedoms. Steven was surprised to learn it is actually the age group his in right now, 30 – 45. Established adulthood that is riddled with challenges: work, raising children, taking care of ailing parents, is also flourishing with satisfaction: established careers, great self-assuredness, closer friend group, refusing to go on dates just to go on a date. Steven realizes he is in his happiness peak which discourages him more knowing he’s not as happy as he suspects he can be.

Stepping out of the shower Steven realizes it’s his father’s nurse’s birthday this week. He tries to get her something special every year as his way of thanking her for allowing him to still have his life and not worry about his father during the week. He should get her a set of the Frette Hellas sheets. Maybe it will bring her a skosh of happiness as she sleeps in a bed that is not her own all week.