The worst thing that could happen is that someone could read this article and mistake me for a domestic goddess. What a laugh. We all know the worst thing—the very worst thing—that could happen would be if Donald Trump dropped out of view and we no longer had him to make fun of. If that actually took place the humor quotient in this country would plummet to near zero and, as we all know, in this country we need all the humor we can get.
But enough about Mr. Trump and his cast of thousands. What is really on my mind is folding fitted sheets. The previous sentence contains the words “my” and “folding” and “fitted sheets” which, in anyone’s world, strongly hints at household chores. This column has been appearing since January of 1997 (!) and if there is one recurring theme it is that I am not, shall we say, accomplished in the domestic arts. We speak now of the person who once caught herself on fire heating canned soup on an electric stove. This same person also once caught her hair on fire while sitting on a fire truck that itself was sitting in a fire station. The bad news was, it made a big stinky mess. The good news was I didn’t have to go far for help. Happily, there have been no flare-ups (pun intended) recently.
In the larger scheme of things, not being able to fold a fitted sheet is less important than, say, predicting if Mr. Trump’s hair will ever move. It is less important than economic stability. It is less important than the upcoming election to legalize marijuana although if we all turn into law-abiding pot heads, the things to which we attach importance might revolve mainly around where we can find a good second-hand hookah.
But it is still irksome. I have seen diagrams about how to fold these sheets. They resemble the diagrams prospective terrorists find on-line illustrating the proper method for building a nuclear device. “Put tab B into corner A. Add yellowcake uranium. Rinse and repeat.” I have heard people who have credibility as laundry experts (and by this I mean anyone who knows what all the dials on a washing machine are for) describe the process.
Allegedly the way to do it is to stick the corners inside each other and then everything falls into place. Here’s a notion I have never seen addressed: What does a folder-in-training do with the seventeen yards of elastic with which the sheets from hell are rimmed? That elastic is there for a purpose, you know. It is there to bunch up the sheet so that it cannot be folded.
We are not neat-freaks around here, but we are not barbarians, either. We have standards. They are pretty low, but they are standards nonetheless. Our admittedly minimal standards dictate that clean sheets cannot be draped upon the furniture until it is time to use them again (the sheets, not the furniture). Therefore, the sheets must be stowed in a linen closet. Linen closets are designed to store neatly folded linen items. Since this is apparently outside the realm of possibilities, our current method is to roll the sheet into a semi-small ball, shove it into a linen closet and then slam the door shut before it can unfurl (the sheet, not the door). The next unsuspecting person who innocently opens the closet door is unfortunately attacked by a killer sheet that can not, will not be contained.
So, I am appealing to your better nature. If anyone out there reading this from the safety of your non-lethal-linen-closet equipped home has a sure-fire (oops, there’s that word again) way to fold fitted sheets, could you please email me? I am so desperate I will accept help from anyone, even Donald Trump. Or his hair.
P.S. We humans are apparently too busy to open a can with a can opener, so the people who package our food have begun putting some food in cans with peel-off lids. These lids, as an extra bonus, also serve as a do-it-yourself finger amputation device. The edges of these cans are sharper than surgical scalpels although they do cost less. If you have any ideas for getting the last of the ground coffee out of these cans, send it along with your sheet-folding ideas. Best ideas will be published in a future column and will earn my “you-can’t-put-a-price-on-it” undying gratitude. I realize you would prefer cash but this is the best I can do.
Marla Boone resides in Covington and writes for the Troy Daily News and Piqua Daily Call.
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