If contour sheets want to be changed and washed more regularly they're going to have to do something about not being so insufferable with themselves. That probably sounds like a mildly irrational thing to say and I'm sorry for it. But I had been letting my vague sense of guilt at not having changed my sheets in weeks build up to the point that I could take action -- I have a very shame-based sense of housekeeping chores -- and finally in the morning took the sheets off my bed and tossed them in the washing machine.
As long as I've got pet peeves going my father had helpfully turned off the motion-detecting sensor to turn the light on in the laundry room because, apparently, he'd found it was causing the light to turn on when he or someone else was in there. He's developed this thing about turning off lights whether anyone is using them or not. Clearly the very idea that you could have a light which turns itself on even when you've got your arms full of laundry and can't easily turn the light on yourself without dropping a pile of clothes on the younger cat who's following you to see what might be happening is driving him silently to the point of madness. So now we have to use the switch to turn on the sensor that lets the light come on without the switch.
It's putting the sheets back on that bothers me because somehow, no matter how I measure the relative lengths, it's always the short length of the sheet that gets matched to the long edge of the mattress. Every single time. And if I turn the sheet 90 degrees -- either way, which ought to work -- it's still the short end of the sheet to the long end of the mattress. A couple more rotations and I can finally get it to where the sheet dimensions match the mattress. It's just not geometrically possible for this to happen except by deliberate action, though, and that's why I say the contour sheets have to get over themselves and just fit on the mattress already.
Incidentally I got these sheets in first thing in the morning, because I've learned that whenever I have a pile of my own laundry worth doing he's sure to decide everything he's ever owned has to be washed now. This has come up several weeks in a row now, and I have to suppose it's gone past the level of coincidence and is instead his passive-aggressive response to my leaving the motion-detecting light sensor turned on so that people can have light in the laundry room without working for it.
Trivia: The first commercial use of nylon, in 1938, was for toothbrush bristles. Source: Napoleon's Buttons, Penny Le Couteur, Jay Burreson. (I'm pretty sure my toothbrush is dead now, by the way, but I won't have the chance to replace it until after the weekend. I'll keep my loyal fans up dated to any sudden developments.)
Currently Reading: Gnarl!, Rudy Rucker.