Fitted Sheets: The Struggle is Real

Is there anything more crazy making?

There are two types of people in this world. Those who know how to fold a fitted sheet and those who do not. 

I do not.

Oh, I’ve tried. I have a German friend, Ingrid, who is uber organized and committed to cleanliness. Dirt, dust and debris bounce right off of her. Marie Kondo has nothing on her. Nothing. Anytime Ingrid comes to visit she totes an extra pair of “house shoes” to change into so she won’t track in any dirt. The things she comes up with are truly astonishing: She lines the cup holders in her car with cupcake holders. I once witnessed her buy a pretty purse hook at a craft fair so she can attach her purse to a restaurant table so it will never touch the ground. She was thrilled. Thrilling for me is the prospect of winning a lotto ticket or Girl Scout cookies going on sale but not Ingrid. Everytime we hang out, I hope one tiny organizational gene will migrate over to me. 

Hasn’t. Happened. Yet.

On more than one occasion Ingrid has demonstrated how to fold a fitted sheet. It really is quite something to watch. Starting on a diagonal, one corner tucks into the pocket of another and then there’s more tucking and folding until, voila! It’s over. Flat, flat, flat. She is a folding phenom. Once when I was out of town she refolded everything in my linen closet. Every towel, washcloth, sheet lay perfectly flat. The beige towels were smiling out at me in their neat little stack, happy to be all together. Ditto for the blue towels. The little washcloths had their own space. I’d never seen anything like it. Happiness flooded my body. I also did not touch anything in that closet for months.

Months.

Call me crazy but every day I walked by that closet, opened the door and peeked in. A huge smile spread over my face. Happy one thing in my house was neat. One thing in my house was organized. One less thing I had to do.

I suspect these same fitted sheet folders are the same people who can smoothly seal a bowl with Saran Wrap, find the matching lid for their Tupperware and, wait for it, have alphabetized their spices.

Gah! 

I’m not sure if I want them as friends. Oh, but wait, I do have them as friends. Why do they want to hang out with me? 

Here, I pose a question: How can a simple sheet confound so many people? Where are Siri and Alexa? Think about it: It’s just a piece of material with elasticized corners. That’s it. It’s not technical and thankfully does not require a password. It’s not like rebuilding a car engine or trying to learn Arabic. But judging from the number of cartoons and memes on the subject–the struggle is real!  Folding success can be judged by the lump. A golf ball size lump is pretty good. If your lump resembles a kangaroo, stuff the darn thing in a pillowcase and call it good.

As much as I hate fitted sheets I do love the history behind them.

Believe it or not, fitted sheets made one Canadian woman, Giselle Jubinville, a millionaire. Fed up with fitted sheets popping off the corners of her mattress, Giselle got busy. She set up her sewing machine in the corner of the bedroom and got to work. Whiz, whir, whiz!  Zig, zag! Her husband slept. Her friends thought her crazy. But, Giselle would not be denied! For two months she sewed and sewed. Nothing. Then one night she had a dream. More fabric. Different angles. Deeper pockets. The sheet stayed in place. But Giselle didn’t stop there. She wanted a patent. The patent office did not. Four years went by. Fed up, she made a small replica of a bed, mattress and her design and traveled to Washington, D.C. Seeing is believing and in 1991, she was awarded the patent.

Now are you going to fold your sheets?

Probably not. So here I offer you a solution. Only own one set of sheets. Then you don’t have to worry about folding the damn things. You just wash your sheets and immediately put them back on the bed. Simple. Problem solved.

You’re welcome.