It's a metaphor for something, yo

Why is my bed only a haven of deliciousness when I have to be at work at 8am? Monday through Friday, my bed is dreamy, delectable, rich. The sheets are fiercely soft and warm, my blankets remind me of the sea and sky. I feel all tender and loving towards my cat pressed against my shoulder, kneading the pillow, mewing in her throat. I hit snooze for an hour because I can't tear myself away from the exquisiteness of it all.

But on the weekends, when I can lay in bed all damn day if I want to, my bed is just not that interesting. My cat is annoying. I can't remember why I love my bed so much. Even though I desperately try to re-create the feeling of exquisiteness, it doesn't come.

It's a metaphor for something.