I haven’t been sleeping well lately. I can’t put my finger on it, I have a lot of stuff going on, stress, life. But the other thing is that if I wake up early, in addition to thinking “I should really get back to sleep,” I also think “I CAN WATCH EXTRA TV!”
Because when I was growing up, I didn’t have a TV in my room, not even after we fled the evil Communists and settled in cozy Reaganesque America. Even then, Mama and Papa had a bit of the Big Brother outlook towards TV and restricted my access. It’s amazing I survived at all.
So now when I wake up early, I look through the saved shows on the DVR. Sometimes I’ll go with a Friends or the New Adventures of Old Christine episode, both perfect shows, IMO, but there are other mornings when I’ll select a Law & Order. SVU is by far my favorite, but I’m pretty sure I’ve seen them all at this point, twice, so I’ll often choose a plain Law & Order. And that’s what I did last Sunday when I woke up at an Ungodly Hour.
It was an episode that started off with great promise- two divorce attorneys married to each other were murdered in their bed– but then things quickly unraveled and we learned that they were murdered because they were investigating a child slave ring. The way this particular child slave ring worked (in case there are different options out there) is that NYC couples would “adopt” children from Haiti and then basically give them “chores” from morning to night.
I hate when the plot involves children and children getting hurt mostly because I have a huge heart that bleeds for human pain and suffering, even when it’s fictional, but also because I can’t stand child actors. Not everyone is Shirley Temple, you know. But whatever, I am really anti-slavery, so I watched. And then it happened.
There’s a scene where the cops burst in and go to the basement and see a small child ironing sheets. That’s right. Ironing sheets.
And it hit me.
Maybe the reason that I don’t sleep well is that I’m sleeping on wrinkled sheets. I mean, I just wash them, dry them, and quasi-fold them. I know there are videos and tutorials and PhD programs about how to fold a fitted sheet, but I’m someone who gives exactly zero fucks about that. So my sheets are always wrinkled, much like a wild animal’s. (Full disclosure: I also have leopard print sheets, so it’s that much closer to a wild animal.)
Anyway, I am sort of obsessed with having ironed sheets now. I am looking into non-slave options for that, but all my friends that I’ve spoken to live with wrinkled sheets too. Of course I met them all at the local chapter of Insomniacs Anonymous, so it’s not very surprising.
One year ago ...
- White Jeans - 2012
{ 31 comments… read them below or add one }
Do you suppose their little hands could handle CalKing sheets because now you have me thinking.
Twitter: hokgardner
February 27, 2014 at 9:03 am
There were always ironed sheets at my grandmother’s and great-grandmother’s houses. Of course, the fact that they had housekeepers may have had something to do with that.
But I do have lots of kids. Maybe I should teach them to iron. First I have to actually find the iron.
What’s an iron?
Twitter: latorres
March 1, 2014 at 10:19 am
Seriously.
Twitter: kidsvomitmice
February 27, 2014 at 12:12 pm
This is a weird coincidence, but three days ago, for the first time ever, I looked at a set of pillowcases and thought, “I need to iron those.” I am thinking that there is some atavistic urge to iron that is triggered by menopause.
Whoa! I have absolutely no urge to iron. I just want ironed sheets.
I hope “atavistic” means “by someone else”
We once had a cleaning lady who ironed sheets and dishtowels. I once saw her burn nylon underwear with the iron. She was neither a child nor a slave. Burned underwear is not comfortable.
this is what you get when you have non-child non-slaves do the work. sigh.
Is it considered slavery if your own biological children do the ironing? Because my 12 year old is a fast learner and I kind of want to know how it feels to sleep on ironed sheets now.
absolutely not! And once the 12 year old learns, maybe you can rent her/him out to me for a few loads.
Am I supposed to own an iron?
And I love love love SVU, even though it has pretty much killed my dating life. Now every time a guy asks me out I immediately think “I saw this once on SVU” and then I say no, because I don’t want to be murdered. I’d rather stay home and watch TV in my wrinkled sheets.
Try joga, evening shower, and letting the fresh (if it is possible in the NYC) air in before going to bed. I also loved your “quasi-fold” word.
Isn’t it easier to get ironed sheets?
…or writing a diary. Bad sleep usually means too many worries in your head. Let them out. If you are afraid of privacy, you can try writing it through emails… setting up a new special e-mail box and each e-mail (to yourself) would be a post in a diary. Easy, helpful, good psycho hygiene.
Hmm, I think we need to know if the bad guys (the slave drivers) are actually sleeping better than you. If they aren’t, then the ironed sheets don’t actually help that.
What we DO learn though is that ironing sheets is really really bad because it is the kind of thing a slaver has their slave do. So if you love America, you’d never iron a sheet. I’m pretty sure that taking the time to correctly fold a bottom sheet would fall into that category too.
you know, that makes a lot of sense. I didn’t realize what a human rights activist I’ve been all these years
Twitter: Midlifemixtape
February 27, 2014 at 4:16 pm
Oh, don’t mind me, I’m just doing a drive by to see if anyone jumped at the bait. Disappointed that all your readers have a sense of humor.
My hope is that the next generation won’t even know what an iron is. I’m doing my part to eliminate this item from our homes. One wrinkled sheet at a time.
My dog does the ironing. I expect to hear from the Humane Society forthwith.
My mother said years ago, “You have to try, at least once, sleeping on ironed sheets.”
Yeah…probably not ever gonna happen. Not as long as I’m doing ironing.
The solution is totally obvious! Hire an intern.
Twitter: HipMom
February 28, 2014 at 12:02 pm
What is more shocking than that scene is that there are real people who do that. My godmother irons her bedsheets – always. and my mom, who is a bit anal about some thing but loves a shortcut, folds them in 1/4 and then irons them, then folde them again, irons and folds, irons and folds, and so her sheets aren’t perfectly irones, but they aren’t exactly wrinkled, either.
Me? I decided to go against the current on this, largely because I am really really crappy housewife so it’s lucky I own an iron at all, and that is largely because I am vain and wrinkled clothes look like shit. But actual sheets? Then I would be afraid to turn in bed for fear of wrinkling them, or worry about it when… you know. Ain’t nobody got time for that crap.
My Aunt Jill actually taught me how to iron by giving me pillow cases to practice on. Yes, I’m 302 years old.
I used to know someone who changed her sheets daily. Daily.
Twitter: Mamabirddiaries
February 28, 2014 at 11:11 pm
Anyone who has time to iron sheets must come over and help me with childcare.
Twitter: Bmt108
February 28, 2014 at 11:12 pm
It seems I’m the oddball here. I do iron my sheets, I do change them every couple of days max, I do fold them perfectly so there are no wrinkles and if they become overly wrinkled on the bed I steam them or change them again. My husband thinks I’m a weirdo for doing these things so I guess it’s ok if all of you do as well.
Twitter: latorres
March 1, 2014 at 10:21 am
Ironed sheets, much like a well planned birthday party, are something my children will never have the pleasure of experiencing.
My mother in law sometimes has someone iron the sheets. I must admit, it feels great. But it’s a thing I will never expend energy on!
Nothing feels better then putting on ironed underwear every morning.
I like to iron my pillowcases to get that fresh look and kill all those face mites people talk about. Although I haven’t done it since I misplaced our iron after a recent move. And by recent I mean 4 years ago.
Oh, dang it, and now how am I supposed to fall asleep knowing they’re unironed sheets I’m on? That’s all I’ll picture as I close my eyes — and it’s hard enough to just settle down as it is.
Marinka… why.