It all began very innocently, as most things do.
Maybe a year or so ago, when I was explaining some of the things I had learned from living by myself, I casually noted at the end of the piece that if anyone had any ideas about how one person could fold a queen-size fitted sheet, I would appreciate the help.
Well, at least one friend said she would be glad to help by telling me how she did it. That’s cool; advice from a veteran professional, I thought.
“You just need to do it like I do,” Little Ms. Dorothy Homemaker, devoted wife and mother of three (with a couple of grandsons), confided, first via e-mail, and then in the privacy of the walking track at the Maryville Community Center during rush hour.
“Pull ’em off, throw ’em in the washer and let the bed air out till they’re done, then put ’em right back on,” was her advice, essentially. “That way, you don’t ever have to worry about folding the darned things.” I was in agreement that such a plan would definitely eliminate any need for trying to fold those rascals, but I persisted, and continued to struggle. I did become a bit more adept at the procedure, but am still a long way from perfection.
Then, just a week or so ago, I was stopped by Fred M. Greeter at Hy-Vee, who presented me with a printed advertisement for a device “guaranteed” to help me out. Catchy name — Fit & Fold — but I definitely had my doubts.
Then Saturday, there it was, at the bottom of the lead page of the “Diem” section of the St. Joseph News-Press, right under the “Marathoning Minister” story — “Fit & fold is frustrating, but it works.”
Hooked by what “SYLVIAsays” about this new product, I immediately read on. I knew for sure we were on the same page when she said her “queen-size fitted sheets … end up in more of a wad than a stack.” My kind of a woman: honest, but apparently not very handy, like me. Reading further into what Ms. Anderson had to say about her quest to emulate Martha Stewart, I became a bit concerned by the trouble she seemingly had just getting the four button snaps unpackaged. And her remark that “a man must have come up with” the page of instructions went against my masculine grain.
That was before I went directly to the Internet myself. Not only was the direction writer probably a man — I suspect definitely not a native Northwest Missourian — but so must have been his colleague who provided the directions for the illustrated website, www.fitandfold.com.
Directions for applying, installing, attaching — whatever you do — the snap post to your sheet without puncturing it permanently are relatively straight forward, but darned near impossible to comply with, but then again so are the directions for removing the darned things from the package. “How to fit it” is reasonably precise; applying the designated one of the four units to each of the respective corners of your sheet, Top Right, Bottom Left, etc. I had never thought of my sheets as having a “right” or a “left,” but they must have, according to the Fit & Fold folks.
Then come the eight easy steps to completing the process, and what I would think to be as much turmoil as trying to fold the things in the first place.
“Hold the two right side buttons in each hand,” I can do. “Keep holding the buttons. Flip the sheet inside out. You will see two blue snaps, …” etc., etc., etc. Maybe just letting them air out is not such a bad idea after all. Or, come to think about it, I haven’t noticed that whatever wrinkles might result from being somewhat “wadded up” in the linen closet have kept me awake, not even for the first few minutes of any given evening.
After all, isn’t that what fitted sheets are supposed to be for anyway. Flip those elastic corners over the ends of the ol’ innerspring and call it good has worked for me so far, and I see no reason to get all twisted up in a knot about it now.
Nothing against Mr. Cooper Hipp and his Styled Simple LLC enterprise, but I just don’t think that stuff’s for me. I get along without the latest iPod, an iPhone with all of its “apps,” or a Blackberry, instant messaging and/or texting, sexting and twittering (if that’s not all the same thing), and I’ll not lose any sleep over not having the Fit & Fold to ensure my sheets are folded up to Ms. Stewart standards. They suit me, and that’s all that really counts.
I am, however, grateful to Mrs.B, Mr. M, and all the others who were kind enough to think about how to be of help in my self-described time of need. Looking at the alternative, needless to say, I didn’t need to have any need anyway, even if the solution does come in a variety of colors to compliment my linens.
