Life is too short to fold a fitted sheet
There are some things in life that I realise now I will never do. I will never do a bungee jump, nor will I parachute out of a plane. Also, after many failed attempts, I will never fold a fitted sheet.
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My tidy linen cupboard is very important to me as it is a small space and must be kept neat. I am one of those weird people who enjoy ironing pillowcases and tea towels. I love the fresh smell and the neat piles. It is probably slightly neurotic and I admit I do like to have control over my environment.
My friends and families lives and even my own may be facing many dilemmas and challenges, but there is something immensely satisfying about rows of neat clean bed linen and towels all folded up and waiting to be used.
But back to the fitted sheet.
I once had a friend try to show me how to fold a fitted sheet straight off the clothesline. I was totally perplexed and just could not ‘get it’. I felt really stupid. I watched several videos on how to fold a fitted sheet on YouTube and even then it failed to click. In the end I have had to accept that amongst the ordered rows, the fitted sheets lie bunched up and as ugly as Cinderella’s sisters.
When I was younger I used to do aerobics when those tooth floss g-string leotards were in fashion. We would have to do a grapevine (an exercise move). I could only do it if I watched the person in front of me and mirrored their moves from the back. If they were wrong, then so was I. I realised something in my brain just does not have the ability to reverse the move when the teacher is facing me. Nevermind, I moved on and I walk instead.
But I digress again.
I remember my dear old mum buying her first doona cover about 30 years ago. I arrived to hear muffled pleas for help and her wearing the doona cover like Caspar the Friendly Ghost. She was inside it trying to get the quilt thingy inside. We worked it out in the end, but she always looked a bit stressed on bed changing day.
Then there is hanging the fitted sheet on the line. I use two rows of the rotary hoist. It just works better that way. Even that is an acrobatic manoeuvre with my arthritic arms. I know I am weird in the fact that I like clean washing hanging on the line in the wind and the sun. I only use a dryer if desperate.
Then you need to remake the bed. First I have to remove the cat who just does not want to move. She groans and squeaks her dismay and may even bite my leg. She attempts to return to her warm and soft pozzie numerous times throughout the procedure and I have to keep turfing her off. Finally she gets back on and turns around to glare at me. She is old so I forgive her.
Now there will undoubtedly be haters and bitter old people who might perhaps be unappreciative of the lightweight and probably a little neurotic approach to this piece, but hey, my life has as much hard stuff going on in it as other people’s undoubtedly do.
There is a world in chaos out there. We have paranoid politicians worrying about their birthplace. Sometimes it’s just good to write about something simple that people can relate to.