A Basque in Boise

Fitted sheets, the greatest invention since sliced bread (until you have to fold them)

I’m not very good at doing housework. I don’t cook much unless it’s cereal or comes in a can, although I make pretty good salads and a very nice tortilla de patata, once or twice a year. I do enjoy folding laundry, though, especially if I time it right and can get to the clothes when they are still warm from the dryer. I like the smell of clean clothes and feeling the heat they generate as I lay them on the table neatly organized in piles: boy, girl, mine, towels, sheets. I work fast too, in an effort to fold them all before they cool off completely.

Fitted sheets

It’s just when I get to the fitted sheets that I start feeling annoyed. No matter how hard I try, the end result invariably looks like crap. I can’t find the edges because there are no edges, so I end up kind of rolling the sheet into a small ball and putting the “normal” sheets folded on top to hide the mess.

However, there comes a point in one’s life when you must own your shortcomings and find a solution. So I set out this morning on my quest for perfection. I found it, but it don’t come easy: it requires either a large-sized table (which I don’t have), kneeling on the floor (the desire of which I don’t have), being a rocket scientist or worse, Martha Stewart. I can’t think of anyone more unlike me than Martha Stewart. The guy from Iron Chef, maybe?

I took the pink crumpled up sheet and put it away underneath the others inside the linen closet, just like I always do. Who wants to be perfect anyway?

Thanks for passing by: ↓



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