Hey, kids. I did something last night that I have never done before and, if we're being honest, I may well never do again. It was totally out of character. It was something I've always scoffed at the idea of other people doing. It was one of those things that make you go, in retrospect, what in god's name possessed me?
I ironed my sheets.
Okay, I didn't iron all my sheets. I'm not that far gone. I ironed my pillowcases, my shams, and the top part of my flat sheet. The fitted sheet was on its own. I also didn't wash, never mind iron, the duvet cover that goes with the shams, because it's a bitch to get back on the comforter. So DON'T JUDGE ME. It's just that those sheets--you remember my sheet-buying last summer, with the hugely discounted high thread count sheets that are so thick and get softer with every wash and feel so damn good--they *do* wrinkle. The online reviews said they wrinkle. Taking out of the dryer as soon as it buzzes does not keep them from wrinkling. And frankly, I'm not usually the kind of person who cares about her sheets wrinkling. You all know that. On a scale of one to ten, my housekeeping standards are at about a three. Okay, a two. But I was having a Martha Stewart moment.
I should have taken a picture of *that*.
xoxo
4 comments:
Watch out; this is a disease. My mother ironed handkerchiefs, towels and underwear, and she had this monstrous semi-commercial machine with which to iron all this stuff. If you go any further we'll have to have an intervention.
Isn't that a "mangle"? Wait, I'll look it up.
From wikipedia, which IS NEVER WRONG:
"In the 1940s electric mangles were developed and are still a feature of many laundry rooms. They consist of a rotating padded drum which revolves against a heating element. The heating element can be stationary, or can also be a rotating drum. Laundry is fed into the turning mangle and emerges flat and pressed on the other side. This process takes much less time than ironing with the usual iron and ironing board."
That's what it was. I guess "mangle" was declasse to my mom, who always called it by brand name--the Iron Rite. Speaking from experience it was just the right size to catch the fingers of nosy little boys--may account for my lifetime aversion to ironing.
Post a Comment