You make your bed and you complain that it's lumpy and it's messy; you complain because it isn't as warm as it once was. Mostly, you complain because it doesn't love you any more. But, it does. You are the one that doesn't love it anymore. And you are the one making it cold . And you, good friend, are the one who will find yourself weeping because you don't know what you have until it's gone. Move on friend, or make your bed right.