Fit to be tied
One thing I noticed during Sunday night's hotel stay, and that I've noticed on prior hotel stays, is that most hotels have forgone the fitted sheet on the bed, and instead have put another flat sheet to cover the mattress.

I am notoriously a tosser and turner. More so when I'm not sleeping. So on Sunday, by about three in the morning, the sheet had slipped, bringing my person into direct contact with the hotel mattress.

I've seen Oprah. I know that the mattress is a breeding ground for creepy crawlies, undesirable stains, and untold diseases. Even in nice hotels. That fitted sheet is like a layer of protection, a barrier between me and those unmentionables. I don't want to be rolling around on that, not even in a rubber suit.

And speaking of the fitted sheet, I have never, ever, EVER been able to fold that thing. In our linen closet right now there's a shapeless blob that could possibly be a fitted sheet, but either myself or my husband probably abandoned trying to fold it and just shoved it on a shelf.

As elusive as it might be, the fitted sheet is my friend. When it's not there, I take note.