Achilles Heel

I swotted hard, got my degree,
Reading anthropology.
Students still ask for my thesis
On the origin of species.
I’ve taken part in excavations
In a myriad of nations.
Homo erectus, Neanderthal –
I’ve written books about them all.

Yet, though my brain-cells are unreal,
I have a large Achilles heel.
My life, I feel, would be complete
If I could fold a fitted sheet.
I work myself into a state
Trying to get the corners straight.
I cannot get them flat at all,
They always end up in a ball.

Cotton, linen or percale,
I always know I’m going to fail.
Single sheets are bad, but double
Cause me unrelenting trouble.
And, though I tuck the elastic in,
Fate decrees I’ll never win.
The greatest story never told
Is how a fitted sheet should fold.