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| Lovely, aren't they? |
As far as addictions go, I suppose it could be worse. But yes, I’ll admit it – I LOVE IRONING. Couldn’t stop if I tried. But then really, why in the world would I want to stop?
My mom started me around the age of 6. First, I was allowed to help sprinkle the wash. A bottle filled with water and what looked like a small shower head attached to the cork topper was the coolest tool I’d ever seen. The trick was to get the laundry damp, but not “wet”. Then, we moved onto the actual ironing. First, were dad’s white hankies. Edges needed to match perfectly and each crease got an extra shot of steam. Before I knew it she had me doing pillowcases and then … linen tablecloths. Oh yeah. Linen tablecloths. (Can you hear the weakness in my sigh?) I needed more. And then, the mother –load. A basket full of shirts, pants, dresses and skirts. I was hooked.
I’ve never lost the love of losing myself to a couple hours of ironing. You start with a heap of items in a basket and end with a beautiful array of finished laundry. The accomplishment high has never let me down. However the volume of laundry has. When I got married, the laundry load went down to just Steven and I. There just wasn’t enough.
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| From: http://timothywinchester.blogspot.com/2010/09/real-life-iron-man.html |
So occasionally I would go to a friend’s house and talk her into letting me do her ironing while we chatted and had tea. This same friend went on a trip and brought me back a huge, white, pure linen embroidered tablecloth with twelve matching embroidered napkins. You can’t look at them without them wrinkling and after a trip through the washer and dryer you can barely recognize them. Those items are still the most challenging pieces of ironing I’ve ever done in my life. She knew the perfect thing to get me. Now THAT is friendship!
Of course, both the tools and the methods have changed over the years. I don’t sprinkle the laundry anymore. I use a regular spray bottle and lightly mist. (I’ve never been a spray starch kind of gal). I prefer a cloth ironing board cover with a thin pad underneath as the Teflon covers just don’t give me enough control over the garment placement. And then there’s my iron. Pure wrinkle annihilating magic in my hands.
I know ironing isn’t for everyone. And for many, it’s considered a chore. But for me, it’s an addiction I can live with. In fact, it’s one I need. And until I find myself being a part of the Extreme Ironing crowd, I figure I’m good to keep on going!
