The strange phenomena revolving around your bed

It look inconspicuous enough from a distance, but it's a crafty imp I tell you. By day break it calls to you.
 'Come, lay down for a minute or two, your work can wait. It's just for a little while. Sleep. Rest. Relax.'

When you do, it's the most comfortable place in the world. Even if you have a cheap two hundred dollar nothing like I do. It's like laying on cool clouds by summer, and a pile of warm wool by winter. So you sleep, and you rest, and the sun sets. Your day is gone, and it's tricks have only just begun.

Nightfall. That's when it really reaches it's stride. There's a force-field around it. Don't try to see it because it's far too crafty to be that obvious about it, and it operates just as subtly. Whenever you get near it, it turns you away. There'll just be a thought in your head. Something like, 'I should get this done before I turn in.' And off you go.

The clock ticks away.

You come back, pull down the sheets. Oh you can get in this time, but then you think, 'I should read a book before I go to sleep.'

The clock ticks away, and ten chapters latter you finally lay your head down to sleep.  But it's like sleeping on rocks, or a prickly cactus.

Don't think the pillow is innocent in this matter. Oh no, sometimes I think the pillow is more malevolent than the bed. Every time you start to drift to sleep, it whispers in your ear.

'Know what would be a good idea to write, right now?'
'This will be a good thing to put in your book. You should do it before you forget.'
'That last chapter you read was pretty interesting. Why not turn on the light and read? Just a little more.'

So you toss and turn, restless in mind and body. And when you finally get to sleep, and you wake to the sunshine spilling through your window, your bed is, again, the most comfortable thing in the world. Even though you have to get up and go to work, run errands, live your life. It just tells you, 'A few more minutes. That's all you need. Your so comfortable now.'

Because your will power is extinguished by your nightly brawl, you have none left to fight off these temptations, and sometimes you don't begrudgingly sit up until well after an hour of opening your eyes.

Than it starts all over.

Now maybe I'm just nocturnal, or maybe I have the only evil bed in existence, but you never know. I may have just done you all a favor in pulling the curtain back on these wicked things.  Is you bed evil?