Sunday is supposed to be the day of rest but that rule seems not to apply in our house. When Marilyn opened her eyes this morning, her first words were, "The sun's shining so I'll change the sheets." It's strange the things which give some people satisfaction. Her involvement in this process seems limited to dragging the hardly-soiled sheets off the bed, removing the pillowcases and bundling the whole lot into the washing machine.
At the appropriate time, I remove the sheets and pillow cases from the machine, and wrestle with them when pegging them on the line. Some time during the morning I re-make the bed with new linen; it's always a struggle with the heavy mattress.
Mid-afternoon, the washed ones are ready for bringing in and I recruit Marilyn to help me fold them, before putting them back in the cupboard until next time. They say that practice makes perfect but I've never thought of myself as wanting to be perfect in this particular job.
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