Sheet-saving Idea
At our Early Christmas celebration last Sunday we feasted, sang seasonal hymns and generally enjoyed one another. Joan brought cherry pie for the first time, which turned out to delight my taste buds even better than her homemade apple pie. Laurie changed up the green bean casserole and brought a chilled green bean-feta salad; so delicious that no comments were heard about missing the traditional Durkee recipe. Tried and true green bean casserole
Suzie and Connie kept us out-of-practice carolers somewhere close to the right key as we attempted the high notes and the harmonies of familiar tunes. One on the piano and the other on tenor recorder--they even serenaded us after our voices ran dry. Everyone contributed to the cause of sharing joy together.
Later in the evening a foursome played Uno, partially to keep the youngest guest non-digitally engaged, and other folks caught up on family news and told stories. Maybe it was because the public news has been so harsh lately, with too much touching and political strife going on, that a topic came up that was pretty surprising.
Toenail slashing. What in the world? Couples were telling stories about one another, tales of expensive, ruined sheets. Husbands or wives who thrashed about during the night, wrecking linens with their razor-sharp nails and creviced heels. The frugal German in me wanted to ask if I could have the old sheets, to tear up and use for drying my windows.
But I kept silent and soaked in the stories, even though I had the solution to their problem.
Whatever the underlying reason--restless leg syndrome, dry skin, insufficient flexibility to bend over and trim those dagger-like toenails--there is an immediate fix to protect those pricey sheets.
One single sheet, simple and plain, folded and secured atop the bottom sheet at the exact spot where the calves and feet rest. Unless the slasher always sleeps on his back, this solves the problem. The folded sheet takes the brunt of the slicing and dicing action, extending the life of your top and bottom sheets.
Don't like how this feels underfoot while you're sleeping? Then cut your toenails and cream up those heels. No mercy from me, pilgrim.
And, if you have some torn, 100% cotton sheets to pass along, I'll be right over.
Suzie and Connie kept us out-of-practice carolers somewhere close to the right key as we attempted the high notes and the harmonies of familiar tunes. One on the piano and the other on tenor recorder--they even serenaded us after our voices ran dry. Everyone contributed to the cause of sharing joy together.
Later in the evening a foursome played Uno, partially to keep the youngest guest non-digitally engaged, and other folks caught up on family news and told stories. Maybe it was because the public news has been so harsh lately, with too much touching and political strife going on, that a topic came up that was pretty surprising.
Toenail slashing. What in the world? Couples were telling stories about one another, tales of expensive, ruined sheets. Husbands or wives who thrashed about during the night, wrecking linens with their razor-sharp nails and creviced heels. The frugal German in me wanted to ask if I could have the old sheets, to tear up and use for drying my windows.
But I kept silent and soaked in the stories, even though I had the solution to their problem.
Whatever the underlying reason--restless leg syndrome, dry skin, insufficient flexibility to bend over and trim those dagger-like toenails--there is an immediate fix to protect those pricey sheets.
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| Position the extra sheet to cover the area usually ruined by your cowboy's toenails and heels. |
Don't like how this feels underfoot while you're sleeping? Then cut your toenails and cream up those heels. No mercy from me, pilgrim.
And, if you have some torn, 100% cotton sheets to pass along, I'll be right over.
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