I think I got this notion from my mother (where so many of my ideas about proper household routines come from).  You should change your bed sheets every two weeks during winter months and change them once a week during warm weather months.

Notwithstanding the advent of thermostats and central air conditioning, I seem to carry on this tradition pretty faithfully.

Washing sheets is a special type of household chore.

No one sees the state of your sheets — except you.

I know I can go a couple extra days, but I love the feeling of slipping between the covers of a bed that wears freshly laundered and tautly stretched sheets.

Along with being able to order room service, I think sleeping in a bed with clean sheets is high on the list of perks associated with hotel stays.

I have been housesitting for a friend who is out of the country.  I’ve been sorting her mail and re-filling her backyard birdfeeder with seed, but I have been clear about household chores that simply will wait for her return. Learning how to operate her washing machine to freshen my sheets was not on my “Not to do” list.

I like how clean sheets smell.  I like the feel of their smoothness on my skin.  I like how you can barely see a wrinkle in their surface.  It’s as if sleeping on an undisturbed surface invites you to have undisturbed rest.

And I’ll think about the first moments of crawling into a freshly made bed in slow motion; how even ten year-old linens feel like new once they’ve been washed and fluffed up in the dryer.  Or better yet, how grand it is to sleep in a bed made with sheets that have been line dried in the backyard of a country house.  Just the image of the sheets undulating in the wind is enough to assure you sweet dreams.

I like knowing that the moment of climbing into my bed with clean sheets is a moment of my making.  I am responsible for the labor.  I am also responsible for breathing deeply in the moment; for breathing in the moment.

I pulled the old sheets off the bed at Joy’s, set the washing machine for hot, transferred them to the dryer and retrieved them at just the right time, before they tumbled into a hot, hopeless pile of creases.  Then I smoothed the fitted bottom sheet over the mattress and covered the top sheet with a quilt.  ( I don’t like the confinement of hospital corners.)

Then I opened the window and pulled the peach colored sheets up to my chin. I felt gloriously warm and cool at the same time –- and new.  Somehow, it felt like like Sunday, a different kind of beginning to the week.

Recognizing that clean sheets is one way to experience a fresh start is no small thing.