Today I stretch the contour sheet from our bed between two deck chairs, lay the pillowcases on the others and drape the top sheet on a lounge. The wind blows mightily and the bottom sheet billows and balloons. Sun warms the pillowcases and the flat sheet and barely three hours later I gather them up, fold them carefully and press my nose into their air-dried creases. And I think about how I no longer iron sheets.