Human beings excel at complicating things.

Now, you might be tempted to think this will be a column on politics, but I think that example largely speaks for itself and would be cliche. That’s the banner example of complication and not only complication, but irritation.

If you disagree with that statement, please take it up in the proper fashion: Post something on Facebook with a sketchy meme backing up your theory.

Anyway, politics will be featured in a column titled: “Things that keep itching and never go away.”

Rather, this is going to be a column on fitted sheets.

You might be questioning your significant other how I go about writing an entire column on fitted sheets. That’s fair, but there is also a good chance your significant other is asking you why you reading such drival.

Fair question.

In reality, I’m not sure yet how this will work into a fully-hedged out column, but let’s find out.

It should be stated clearly and unequivocally, I hate changing sheets on the bed because it means that I have to deal with said fitted sheets. Fitted sheets, in case you are blessed to not have to deal with making the bed, are the sheets you lay on. They have elastic corners that fit the sheets to the bed.

That’s about the only simple thing about fitted sheets, the explanation.

I will admit in theory, the idea of these sheets make sense. Given the nature of humans to thrash about in their sleep, a normal sheet would simply come untucked.

In the morning, the dream of being in a wrestling match would become, upon waking up, explained as you untangle yourself from the sheet that has obviously pinned you.

TWWWOOOO!

That’s for my one reader who understands wrestling. Real wrestling, not fake wrestling. Chairs aren’t allowed in high school wrestling.

We’ve all woken up to the panic of needing to go the bathroom, but having to untangle first turns it into a living nightmare as you thrash about, freeing one arm and then the other, limping to bathroom as the sheet refuses to let go.

That particular issue is largely taken care of with the fitted sheet, which will stay nice and snug to the bed.

However, the true “joy” of the fitted sheet comes with making the bed after changing the sheets.

In case you are new to my column, that’s high sarcasm and please stick around. I’m told my columns are entertaining. I just hope my readers aren’t lying to me in an effort to let me down easy later on.

The process comes at you in two parts. First and probably the lesser evil of this diabolical contraption is the making of the bed. After all these years I still discover this minor irritability, for the most part, comes down to finding the proper corners.

How many of us have gotten to the fourth corner, only to realize that it won’t reach? Obviously, this is because you haven’t accounted for the length and are trying to spread it out using width instead.

Most of the time you never really figure this out until the last corner. With great care you try to keep this corner in your hand as you unattach the rest and shift the sheet, only to have it snap out of your hand.

Now you have a wad of sheet in the middle of the bed with no concept of which is the longest part. Nobody has arms long enough to spread it out adequately as it keeps snapping back to said wad, so there is a very real chance you repeat this aggravating process over and over again.

Of course, anybody who has cats knows how this process can be complicated. And we’re not even to the real irritation of the fitted sheets: The impossibility of folding the sheet.

There are men and women out there who will tell you they can fold the sheet perfectly. Don’t believe them. They are lying.

I’m confident that usually I can figure something out after enough time. But after these 44 years of life, fitted sheets and algebra are still two things I don’t get. The difference is I know the value of the fitted sheets. Algebra still hasn’t entered my life since College Algebra 112.

I used to get wildly irritated when dealing with these sheets. I know the process of how to do it. I understand the general principal, but no matter how many times I try to fold the demon fabric, it never comes out right.

What it always looks like, on one of my better days, is a vague square that only loosely meets the requirements of the shape. It appears to have four sides with flaps of sheet here and there.

Often, one side is longer than the other and it’s infinitely wider than the normal, run-of-the-mill sheet which has already been nicely folded.

So smart people of the world, remember humans find ways around things. We’ve tamed rivers, built technological wonders, travelled to the moon. We can do this. We can find a simpler way to fold these domestic complications with far more ease than we do now.

We are AMERICA! We shouldn’t be kept down by a rectangle of fabric. Rise up and somebody find me a simple way to fold!