Hospital corners and other domestic madness

I am particularly partial to a well made bed. In fact, some might say obsessed. I love a good cotton blanket, proper pillow and have been having an ongoing love affair with my latex (oo er) mattress now for many years. I would have clean, ironed sheets and pillow cases every day of the year, if I could keep up with the laundry or have enough money to pay someone who would do them for me to my exacting specifications.

Lovely, well made bed, how I love thee

For those who believe a doona pulled up over a flat sheet is making the bed, don’t keep reading, you’ll only get cross and go off in a huff muttering about wasting time and fussiness.

I am occasionally, using occasional, in the sense of every time it is raised, given hard time about this; especially in the twittersphere. My love of the hospital corner, absolutely essential to be well made bed, ellicits snorts of derision and mirthful teasing pours out whenever I talk about my predilection. I make the bed everyday. In fact, I make them all. Even the toddlers’ cot – which he will reoccupy at least once before nightfall. I get completely overexcited at the sight of a Moss River sheet shop and have been known to remake an unsatisfactorily made bed (sorry Robert). My brother, when he was left in charge of making the bed ready for when I got out of hospital after having Benedict, went into an instant decline and was seriously stressed. He did a fine job. He performs well under pressure.

I also like a tidy linen cupboard and a neatly (NEATLY) folded fitted sheet. It took me nearly two years to teach my beloved how to fold a fitted sheet, but we got there in the end. I never gave up hope that he was capable of mastery over a 210 cm square piece of cloth edged with elastic. Eventually, he cracked it. It was a happy happy day in our household.

When I became a mother, I abandoned a lot of my previous dearly held housework ‘musts’ – must do the dishes before leaving the house, must take the rubbish out every night, must etc etc etc but I didn’t ever even consider relaxing the ‘must make the bed’. When all is chaos and the world is closing in and there are tears and poo and life is awful, I walk into my room. There the bed neatly sits. Waiting for me. Ready at a moments notice to receive me in its lovely cool neatness. It is instantly soothing to see it ready, waiting and inviting.


PS – if you’ve reached the point in your life when you must have hospital corners and neatness but don’t know where to start, what are you doing here?