Sleepin’ in a makeshift castle is certainly worth a week’s delay, isn’t it? Then there are times when your week’s been such a whirlwind—what with the luncheons, Bible study groups, and helping out the neighbors—that you’d swear you were as busy as a one-legged man in a butt-kickin’ contest! And who’s got time to be elbow-deep in laundry then?
Especially when you’re listening to the news about this woke culture nonsense and scratching your head in disbelief! It’s enough to make you shout “Lordy!” while you wrestle with fitted sheets. And speaking of fitted sheets, whose bright idea was it to make them anyway? They’re like wrestling with a greased pig. Now, I wouldn’t be a fair corn-raising mother from the heartland if I didn’t admit something: there’s a part of me that loves slipping into fresh sheets, the smell of soap still wafting in the air like fresh-baked apple pie cooling on the windowsill.
But at the same time, there’s a certain break-in period that a sheet needs, y’know? It’s like a good pair of leather boots; they need to be worn, conformed, and, dare I say, loved a little. Not everything needs to be spit-shined and polished within an inch of its life. Tradition has its place, and comfort has its own rhythm. Besides, there’s a cold, hard truth here. Sometimes life just throws you curveballs. Sometimes you fall asleep to the evening news, still just as bewildered by cancel culture as when you woke up that morning. The news these days really is something else, isn’t it?
When exactly did we decide to turn the importance of bed-making into something borderline political? I’ll never understand these young folks’ obsession with micromanaging every part of life. When we were their age, we were too busy working, raising a family, and making sure you didn’t miss Sunday service. My grandkids love to tease me when they hear my stories.
They say, “Grandma Mary, you’re stuck in the past!” Well, if the past includes a strong family, deep faith, and love for this country, then I say, “Giddy up!” Because the values we held dear back then are what made us the strong, young nation we are today.
I’ll fight tooth and nail to hold onto that. Even if it means holding on to my bi-weekly bed sheet routine, Lord be willing. So, sweetie, if you’ve stayed with me this long—and bless your heart if you have—I think you can see there’s no one-size-fits-all answer to how often you should change your bed sheets.
Some folks say every week, others every two weeks, and some only when it seems like spring cleaning should roll round again. If the good Lord gives us the wisdom to navigate through these times—be it in life or laundry—we’ll come out alright. Remember this: Changing bed sheets is just one of many small tasks that make up our day-to-day.
Somewhere between hanging Old Glory out front, keeping the faith strong, and staying true to one’s beliefs, our bed sheets get their turn too. And if a bit of dirt and wear says anything, it’s only that we’ve lived a life full of love, laughter, and good old-fashioned hard work. So go ahead, change those bed sheets when it feels right. And if the woke police come knocking, well, point them toward the laundry room and give them a lesson or two about priorities from a simpler, more sensible time. God bless America. Amen.
