Why Don't Fitted Sheets Fit?

OK, so here’s a question: why don’t fitted sheets fit on my mattress any more? I thought the purpose of the fitted sheet was to provide a smooth, unwrinkled surface for sleeping, without the hassle of trying to make hospital corners and tuck a plain sheet around your mattress. That would mean, to me, that you don’t get little bumps and pockets around the edges that catch your toes just as you’re falling asleep, jolting you back to consciousness.

Unfortunately, I’ve found over the past 10 or 15 years that this is not so. My fitted sheets never quite fit on my mattress, leaving little wadded-up twisted places at the corners, and wrinkles all around the sides. Granted, when I first discovered this affliction, I was buying discount sheets in the irregulars bin. Hmmm, was that what they meant?

So a few years ago, I upgraded to a nice, first-quality set of percale sheets from a lovely upscale retailer. I was so excited to think that I would have a wonderfully smooth sleeping surface that I couldn’t wait to put them on the bed. I washed & dried them, then took my nice, new, fresh-smelling sheets in and started making the bed.

I pulled one corner over the mattress, went to the opposite corner, and pulled that into shape. I noticed a few wrinkles, but thought they would surely go away when I had finished. Last two corners…voila!

But wait…what’s this? A backwards dimple on a couple of corners? Did I put the sheets on wrong? I took them off, turned them around, tried again, and…still had dimples. And wrinkles. And no matter how hard I tried, I’ve still never been able to get my sheets completely smooth. Which drives me up the wall, without fail, every week.

I don’t have a big pillow-top mattress. I don’t have a custom-made bed. Just a normal, everyday box spring—for which, I would think, sheets were made.

So I ask, plaintively, why don’t fitted sheets fit?

Guess I’ll go have a cup of tea to drown my sorrows.

Snow blogger

Snow Haiku:
Kids making snowballs
Bewildered dog among them
Trying to stay dry.

It's snowing today in Austin, TX (where, in February, it's usually 65 degrees), and in the face of this strange weather phenomenon, I can't get anything done. I've declared this a mental snow day.

I remember when I was little how anxious we were for it to snow--but only if it meant a day off from school. If that miracle actually happened (hearing the magic number "807" on the radio!), we got dressed in so many layers we could hardly move and piled out the door into the snow. I don't really remember epic snowball fights, although I suppose there must have been some. I do remember making snow forts and snowmen (and sometimes women), and especially snow angels.

It astounds me to think of it now, but I couldn't wait to get out there & lie down in the snow, windmilling my arms and legs to make an imprint. By the time I got up I was usually soaking wet (since, in New Jersey, we never had anything but heavy, wet snow), but I loved it. My sister & I would stay outside until our mom called us in with promises of hot chocolate with marshmallows.

Once inside, we'd peel off our outer layers and drape them by the heater on the porch (not really a "porch", more like an enclosed sun room), and then traipse into the kitchen in clean fluffy socks to have our hot chocolate. We'd slurp down the hot chocolate, trying to make the marshmallows last. We never admitted that we were freezing to death and might have wanted to stay in for a while, but I'm sure my mom always knew. She'd keep us in until we got warm, then find dry coats & boots and let us go back out for a while. And that was the best thing in the world.

Now, I'm a wimp. When it snows, I might venture out to take a few pictures, but otherwise I'm content to sit inside, drinking tea and watching the flakes come down. On this completely flukey day in Texas, I've been sitting at my computer trying to concentrate enough to apply for a few more jobs, or send some emails, or do other work, but my eyes keep wandering to the window where white flakes of various sizes keep whirling down.

I love our Texas "winters", where putting on a sweater and closed-toed shoes is usually the only defense we need, but having the occasional freak snowstorm is kind of fun. I don't think the kids out in the field in back had much of a snowball fight, and their dog didn't look too happy, but it was a nice break from routine.


So I'll sit here with my puerh tea, which is somehow reminiscent of both chocolate and mushrooms, and enjoy my break from routine. Tomorrow I'll jump back on the wagon and try to get things done, hoping my daffodils survived the snow. But today is a snow day.