Thursday, June 6, 2013

The ultimate in domesticity

Today I did some thing that I have not done in years. I kid you not. Years.
I ironed.
My iron was received as a wedding gift a century ago, and still has that 'new iron smell'. When I pulled the ironing board out Hurricane Girlchild said 'what's that?" and promptly tried to climb it.

My poor spouse has been carrying the burden of a wife that does not iron, and in my defense I have not had to in many years because I have been blessed with a Mother in Law that LOVES ironing. (she also was a professional drycleaner, talk about crisp seams!) Spoiled, yes. Ashamed, never.

The Spouse's need for a freshly pressed shirt for an event he's attending this evening was the catalyst for the ironing experiment. I am an emergency iron-er. Only by necessity, and poor Spouse has been known to have to go and purchase a new shirt on the same day as he needed to wear it because of my gross lack of ironing  ability.  

So while I had the ironing equipment (is that the right term?) out I figured I may as well iron the other couple of shirts hanging there waiting to be pressed. Who am I kidding, there was 13. I never said I was the best wife in the world.
Don't judge me.

I've never really enjoyed ironing. I figure it's because I've never been really good it. As I worked on shirt number 4 I was reminiscing about the days when I used to wear a uniform to work and only pressed the sleeves and collar as that was all you could see under my very smart vest and scarf-neither of which required pressing. Next time you check in at an airline, check out the hungover looking ticket agent's uniform and see for yourself.

It was during shirt number 8, a stylish Kenneth Cole that I chose for Spouse that I realised I needed to thank my grade 9 Home Economics teacher. If it wasn't for her and my lame attempt a sewing a shirt a success only because of  her expertise, I wouldn't even know how to iron. I recall it like it was yesterday standing there in a hot, second floor classroom ironing a freshly sewn seam. Thinking to my 13 year old self  "I'm SO going to have people that do this for me someday..."   Little did I know.

So ten shirts down, and I have to admit I actually enjoyed my afternoon spent ironing. I didn't get much else done around here, but I did enjoy seeing the fruits of my labour crisply hanging beside me. It gave me a sense of  accomplishment like nothing else around here does. My creases and collars cannot be undone by Hurricane Girlchild or The Boy. I found it to be quite therapeutic, quiet, peaceful work. Just me and my thoughts. No wonder my Mother in Law likes it so much.  

The Boy just walked in from school and saw the iron and ironing board still out behind me.
His first words "is Nana here?"

No comments:

Post a Comment