Oh sheet

My dear, respected and trusted friend told me this week that I have been exposed to what, we are sure, is listed in the Geneva convention as a basic abuse of human rights. Thats right. I have done the unthinkable, the unbelieveable. The one thing I swore blind that I would never EVER do.



I just ironed my first set of sheets.



And I could feel every busy modern woman, every lover of free time, everyone I know (except one) in Australia raise up their hands and gasp in disbelief. Why oh WHY would anyone subject themselves to such torture? Why would you actually lengthen the time you have to spend ironing by ironing the only thing that a) is fitted to a flat surface and b) gets all mussed up anyway - and at a time when we dont even notice it - WHEN WE'RE ASLEEP! Or even better... we muss it up when we DO notice it (and why would you be checking if the sheets had been ironed anyway? ;)



Marilena may as well have been dancing circles around me clapping and cheering as I took my first blow (nice Aussie term there) of the blue demonic cotton. The tool, largely foreign to my sweaty grasp sighed a steamy moan. And so did I. I felt like I was betraying my gender, my generation, my COUNTRY! Surely its Un-Australian to iron your sheets! Surely the aussie "way of life" states that it is more beneficial to humanity, to keeping our culture alive, to nurturing relationships and our economy to be sitting out in the sun reading a book or having a glass of Margaret River red with friends? Surely this is the most stupid waste of time... EVER?



But no. Im reassured by both mother and son that one gets a better nights sleep on an ironed set of sheets. My guess is that they both work so bloody hard, they dont give the damn sheets a second thought before they crash into slumber after a days hard slog.



New sheets? Sure I get it - they have that starchy feel about them if you use them before cleaning out the formaldehyde and chemicals they use to make them look pristine when you buy them. Clean sun-dried sheets on a freshly made bed? One of my favourite things ever. But seriously - who gives a damn if they've been ironed. Really. And if you do, you need to get out and dig a hole. Wear yourself out to the point of death-like slumber and quit blaming the sheets for your restlessness.



So Australia, Im sorry. Please dont strip me of my passport or citizenship. It only happened once... I promise. UN - Im ok, just slightly shell shocked and hoping that PTSD doesnt set in and make me do it again. To all the women who fought to vote, who fight to this day - Im sorry. To those who LOVE their sheets ironed - get a grip!



So there!