I like my animal companions am a creature of habit. Thus I change my sheets on my bed every Tuesday, a ho-hum task that takes on a whole new challenge when one considers I have a Siamese cat named Sully who's lone ambition in life is to foil my efforts at bed-making. I actually found myself tip-toeing to the linen closet today in a vain attempt to elude Sully, but he has some type of secret-fresh-sheet-sixth-sense that sent him running to my bedroom before I could even peel off the old pillowcases.Making the bed with fresh linens sucks anyway when you do it solo. You have to constantly go around the perimeter of your bed which I find annoying. You get one corner of the fitted sheet on and one pops off. You think the top sheet is lined up until you go to the other side and see it hanging to the floor so you return to the other side and even it up. The whole shebang goes a lot easier when my husband makes the bed up with me and cuts down my around the bed-scurry. Alas, bed-making ranks very low on Alex's fun list. I fear this is true of all men, which is why when they are bachelors they only have one set of sheets that never gets changed. I think women everywhere remember that one boyfriend in their past that actually had no sheets on the bed and we thought it was dangerous and sexy. No, it was just laziness. And gross. And we still slept with them. Ahh, reckless youth.
Anyways, back to Sheet 101 with a Siamese cat. Sully will quickly sprawl out and cement himself to my pillow top with paws outstretched to announce he is in no uncertain terms going anywhere now that bed-making has begun. Picking him up and removing him from the bed to the floor will generate a boomerang reflex in which he will spring back onto the bed before I even turn around from displacing him. (this is where the term "quick as a cat" originates I believe) As if there was not enough pressure to get those four corners of the fitted sheet onto the mattress, now I have the extra stress of keeping a cat from being trapped under the fitted sheet as burrowing has commenced. I swear I feel a moment of triumph when I get the fourth corner on, usually as I have to do it one-handed while holding Sully on my hip to keep him out of the way. Flailing the top sheet out to spread it is Sully's cue to run underneath it and try to pin the floating material down with his paws. Hence leaving a giant cat lump in the middle of my bed as I move onto pillowcases. It is at this point under the top sheet that Sully has become in his own mind completely invisible and elusive. He doesn't move a whisker in the hopes any passer-byers will be fooled into thinking he is not under there. It's at this point I usually try to again remove him as I foolishly fear if I put the heavy duvet on the bed he will be smothered. This begins a game of Sully moving under the sheet to a spot on the bed I cannot reach. So I move to the other side of the bed and reach out a hand and the lump goes to the other side, and so on. The cat under the sheet chase has begun. It's the four-corner fitted sheet conundrum all over again. If I wore a pedometer I think I travel about 25 miles on foot just going around and around my bed. Sometimes I just leap onto the bed to trap the cat-lump. Sometimes I just put the duvet on and see if the weight of it will drive him out. Eventually I feel guilty and peel my freshly made bed apart to "free" my cat who I swear is laughing at me in a smug Siamese way.
Anyways, back to Sheet 101 with a Siamese cat. Sully will quickly sprawl out and cement himself to my pillow top with paws outstretched to announce he is in no uncertain terms going anywhere now that bed-making has begun. Picking him up and removing him from the bed to the floor will generate a boomerang reflex in which he will spring back onto the bed before I even turn around from displacing him. (this is where the term "quick as a cat" originates I believe) As if there was not enough pressure to get those four corners of the fitted sheet onto the mattress, now I have the extra stress of keeping a cat from being trapped under the fitted sheet as burrowing has commenced. I swear I feel a moment of triumph when I get the fourth corner on, usually as I have to do it one-handed while holding Sully on my hip to keep him out of the way. Flailing the top sheet out to spread it is Sully's cue to run underneath it and try to pin the floating material down with his paws. Hence leaving a giant cat lump in the middle of my bed as I move onto pillowcases. It is at this point under the top sheet that Sully has become in his own mind completely invisible and elusive. He doesn't move a whisker in the hopes any passer-byers will be fooled into thinking he is not under there. It's at this point I usually try to again remove him as I foolishly fear if I put the heavy duvet on the bed he will be smothered. This begins a game of Sully moving under the sheet to a spot on the bed I cannot reach. So I move to the other side of the bed and reach out a hand and the lump goes to the other side, and so on. The cat under the sheet chase has begun. It's the four-corner fitted sheet conundrum all over again. If I wore a pedometer I think I travel about 25 miles on foot just going around and around my bed. Sometimes I just leap onto the bed to trap the cat-lump. Sometimes I just put the duvet on and see if the weight of it will drive him out. Eventually I feel guilty and peel my freshly made bed apart to "free" my cat who I swear is laughing at me in a smug Siamese way.
Then I make the bed all over again. Or try to at least try to. Sigh.
I make Lannie into the bed all the time. He's not quite as obsessed as Sully but he's pretty into sheets.
ReplyDeleteAnd don't tell Joe I told you this, but he always helps me make the bed. He also washes the dishes. Yeah, I'm a pretty lucky girl.
I have a sheet cat, too, who apparently took lessons from Sully.
ReplyDeleteCarter likes to lay on the dirty sheets as I discard them off the bed. He refuses to get off of them until I take him for a sheet-sled ride to the hamper.