I finally did it. I let go of the dream. That's right, I no longer have white bed clothes and towels. I'm still letting that sink in. I've had white linens my entire adult life. To me they represent freshness and cleanliness and I finally had to admit that "fresh" and "clean" aren't words that reflect my current life most of the time. After trying to continue that tradition with a husband, a boy and two large dogs, there were some filthy-ish situations that not even chlorine bleach could reverse.
Today I finally threw away the messed up, once white sheet that we referred to as the Shroud of Turin. I replaced the sheets and comforter cover with something that seemed like it would be more likely to weather the Rosenberg storm. Yes, this is about me buying new sheets but also it's about acceptance. It's one more way I'm letting go of my teeny little perfectionist-OCD-control-freak deal. So you can have the white sheets but I'm keeping my alphabetized spices. (That's just makes good organizational sense.)