I don’t like folding fitted sheets.
If you want to call what I do even folding.
The only way to successfully fold a fitted sheet is to stretch out the elastic so it’s no longer “fitted” as far as definitions are concerned. Then, you have some chance of folding it so it looks semi-respectable.
Folding fitted sheets is not something they taught us back when junior high home ec. was still a class. I learned how to sift flour, bake biscuits from scratch, formally set a table, care for an egg baby, and sew a pillow.
I did not learn how to fold a fitted sheet.
To this date:
- I have never sifted anything that wasn’t a pile of socks.
- I have only bought rolls, rarely biscuits.
- We eat on paper plates and use our fingers a lot.
- My mother in law does most of our sewing. The stapler does what it can.
As for an egg baby, a lot of good that did for teaching me how to care for an actual baby. Especially since all I did was pack it into a Tupperware container and threw it in my backpack. There’s no way I could fit my baby into Tupperware. He has way too much thigh fat.
So, how to fold a fitted sheet would’ve been more helpful.
My husband, who has had every job there is to have from drywall to bartending, to grave digging (I don’t think all three at once, but do you ever really know a person? I mean really know a person?) used to manage a hotel and has opinions on how fitted sheets are folded. He backs those opinions up with an actual process to fold one.
He is the only person I know who can fold a fitted sheet. But he never does the laundry so it’s a wasted skill. Instead, he watches me wrestle the fitted sheet like an alligator wrestles a hippo. Somewhere after the death roll when I’m laying on the floor in floral printed flannel, exhausted and wondering how I ended up here in life, he will say, without looking up, “You know, that’s not how you fold a fitted sheet.”
Now, before you go and think he is a total jerk for not helping me, please remember that we have four kids and are very tired. Also, he’s shown me no less than 400 times in the last 12 years we’ve been together. Those “sessions” end up with him showing me how to fold the sheet with an in-person step-by-step tutorial and me watching and nodding. Because, like math, I simply don’t get it. Also, I have the memory retention of kiwi, I recall none of the steps and have way too much pride to ask him to help. So, I go through what I think are fine steps to fold a fitted sheet. I put ends together and wad it into a ball before stuffing it in the back of the closet behind a stack of towels.
Of course, does anyone even care what a fitted sheet looks like? It’s under a top sheet that actually does neatly fold and at least one blanket that also neatly folds. If anyone asks why your fitted sheet is wrinkled, I think a better question would be why are they in your bedroom taking apart your sheets and bedspread?
I gave up years ago trying to figure out the whole matching and scooping one side into the other and flipping the thing this way and that way until it’s magically a neat pile of square.
I’m not David Copperfield.
Fitted sheets are stupid.
But, I shouldn’t complain. They do keep the sheet on the bed.
Well, unless you have some like mine without elasticity. When you sacrifice function for form, you’ll find yourself trapped in a floral, flannel death roll at 2:00 a.m. wondering how you ended up here in life.