I had a pile of my husband’s shirts that came out of the laundry a little more wrinkled than normal. It might have something to do with having sat in the dryer overnight. But, who knows? Maybe the wrinkle fairly came and had a party on hubby’s shirt.
So, since the kids are out of school and I have a little extra time on my hands (because I don’t have to drive them all over the country), I decided to iron his shirts rather than just throw them back in the washer.
I got out my ironing board and found the iron. It still had a little water in it, so I plugged it in and waited for it to heat up. With Christmas music blaring and kids happily cleaning upstairs, I got to ironing all of the wrinkles out of his shirt, feeling very domestic. It probably took me a good five minutes for one shirt. I pulled it off expecting it to look wonderful. It didn’t. So, I tried another shirt, and then another, all with the same result. At some point (about 30 minutes of ironing later), that old adage about doing the same thing over and over popped into my brain.
I think my iron is faulty. I texted my husband with my conclusion and he thought my phone had been hijacked and wanted to know who was texting him. Because he knows his wife, and she doesn’t iron, she puts clothes in a bag on the front porch for the dry cleaning man.
This is why we dry clean.
No comments:
Post a Comment