Why precisely this?
Also, he would let housekeeping know when he wanted his sheets done, and he would strip his own bed.
We can read this, from Mr Wolff’s book, sort of in context.
In the first days, he ordered two television screens in addition to the one already there, and a lock on the door, precipitating a brief standoff with the Secret Service, who insisted they have access to the room. He reprimanded the housekeeping staff for picking up his shirt from the floor: "If my shirt is on the floor, it's because I want it on the floor." Then he imposed a set of new rules: Nobody touch anything, especially not his toothbrush.
So the bed stripping thing goes here, in authorial sequence. But, bed sheets?
Is “shirt” a euphemism? When I undress, some sort of shirt may be involved, but generally it goes well beyond that. Pants, underwear, socks. Then I dress for bed.
Fresh shorts and Tshirt. Being married to a wonderful woman, it's like magic.
Also, morning noon or night, I don't strip the bed, as in, "I and only I shall strip the bed.” Really, I'm trying to imagine what the “bed stripping” procedure consists of.
And… I never lost an argument with the Secret Service about keeping my door locked. My bedroom door locked. Maybe I should check under the sheets.