No, I'm not talking about monsters under my bed. There are none. There's no space for them in my world. The empty space under my bed has become the most strategic place in my bedroom. If there's anything I can't find a space for, I chuck it under the bed. If there's something I need to use frequently but can't be bothered to put it back at its proper place, it goes under the bed. Let's see now - I've got books, dumbells, CDs, magazines, toys, empty boxes, some rough paper and occassionaly my glasses and mobile phone. It seems like the most convenient place to store things. When I'm lying on my bed, all I need to do is to just reach under and feel for it. It's as simple as that. I don't need to put my feet down onto the floor to walk to the desk or the bookshelf. It's all within reach.
As a kid, I'm sure most of us would have been through the phase where our wild imagination created a realm where monsters dwelled under our beds and would come out at night to catch us - thanks to horror movies of the late 80s and early 90s. Thankfully, I never believed in those, except for Freddy Krueger from Nightmare on Elm Street who gave me the creeps. I remember I was just 5 years old when I watched A Nightmare on TV at my friend's home before going to school in the morning. The most memorable scene was the blood fountain spurting out from the bed where Johnny Depp had slept. I'd always imagined Freddy hiding somewhere inside the bed or between the hollow walls of Australian homes.
That's enough. I think I have disgressed far enough from the original topic now!
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