Changing Seasons (May 1999)

Spring has finally reached Michigan. Weíve had almost two weeks of non-stop sunshine, which is almost unheard of in these parts. Mornings are crisp, and afternoons are downright balmy with the mercury reaching mid-70s. This of course signals a changing of the seasons and, more importantly, a changing of the sheets. Before you hit REPLY with that last sentence highlighted and some clever retort typed underneath, I do change my bed linens a tad more frequently than once every six months! This time of year I get out the summer sheets. Unlike the winter sheets that are fuzzy and warm, the summer sheets are cool and crisp.

Going from flannel to percale is always a difficult adjustment, so if you notice that Iím a little cranky itís because of sleep deprivation. It takes me a while to get used to the new sheets.

The warm, fuzzy winter sheets are really my favorite. Iím the cold one. Steve turns the electric mattress pad up to ďre-heat pizza,Ē and lets it cook for five or six hours. Then I get to jump into a bed that feels like some warm body just vacated. Nice and cozy. With flannel jammies and socks Iím pretty much planted where I land. Not much moving around. Sandwiched in flannel with several quilts on top, Iím immobile. I donít get out of bed unless I hear the smoke detector. Turning over requires great effort and then I run the risk of electrocution as the static electricity built up by my attempted gyrations reach dangerous levels.

Summer requires a lighter quilt and the smooth slippery sheets---the 200 thread count cotton percales with the slick finish. They fairly crackle as you flap them out on the bed. Me and my nighties glide right over them. All I have to do is THINK about turning over and Iím there. I am a regular whirling dervish in summer sheets.

Unfortunately, I have fallen out of bed twice over the years, both times at the beginning of the summer sheet season when I thought I was still entombed in flannel and attempted to turn over. The speed at which I was able to spin flipped me right out of bed. I ricocheted off the wall and landed padded-side-down on the floor. Thank goodness I tossed the clothes I was wearing the day before onto a nice heap on the floor to break my fall.

So, until I get totally used to the new sensation of movement, I sleep lightly. I have to wake up fully before turning over. (I got more sleep when Jennie was an infant.) Added to this inconvenience is the fact that we now sleep with the window open. The birds get up entirely too early. Theyíre up before the sunís all the way showing. And we have a ton of birds, all of whom must be living in the eaves under the bedroom window. Except the woodpecker who sounds like heís under the bed. (c) 1999 by Ami Simms.