As she folded and smoothed the bedsheets over and over, minutes edged into hours. As she perfected one corner, another would rumple, but she kept on trying.
“If I can just get this one thing right, it will be the start of a perfect life,” she thought.
inkbiotic 
I’ve been there!
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It’s an easy trap to fall into!
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Like a rock garden.
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I think I’m missing something, how is it like a rock garden, goodly George?
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Endlessly folding sheets into perfection, endlessly tending the Japanese rock garden into perfection, knowing both have no purpose.
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…or something like that.
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Ah, I see! Detailed to perfection, agonising over every inch inch and blade of grass. You got it 😉
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More precisely, more like monk mandala sand art. Once the monks get it perfect, they simply wipe it away. Like the perfect fold in your sheet. Fold it perfect, then wipe it away by using it on the bed. LOL!
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😀 That makes me both happy and sad.
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This reminds me of my Mum as she battled with dementia – she would sit and fold and unfold the edge of her blanket continuously her fingers smoothing the edges meticulously before she’d shake it out and start again,
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That’s very sad, I’m sorry for you both. I think there is comfort in repetitive behaviour, especially when your brain isn’t working so well. Thank you for such a poignant comment.
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In Muslim architecture there is always some deliberate imperfection in patterns, in design, because it’s believed that only Allah is capable of perfection and that humans achieving this set themselves up to be godly.
That said, it’s not good to be obsessive about perfect bedding though I see that hotel staff frequently achieve perfection with their precision bed making. Practice makes perfect, as they say!
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So hotel staff are close to being godly? Now there’s a plot twist I didn’t expect 😉
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They are, I thought *everybody* knew that!
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😀
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Your story really describes the perfectionist’s obsession. Thinking that being perfect at something will bring happiness, but it just causes stress. Thank heavens for fitted sheets!
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Fitted sheets are great! I tend to take ease over perfection every time when it comes to any kind of cleaning, but I’ve known a few people who get caught up in the details. Like you say, it’s a stressful way to live, a kind of trap.
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