Even though my sister doesn't even own an iron, I have three. What can I say! I need to tell you about my love of ironing and then I want to know which homekeeping task melts your butter.
The weather here is gorgeous........... sunny, blue skies, but oh, so cold. So I am ironing as I watch a movie on Amazon Prime. Entertained, but getting things accomplished is just my style. My history with ironing goes way back to my childhood. Walk with me here down memory lane.
My mother loved to iron. Our clothes required such attention as it was a time before permanent press and dryers that took away those wrinkles. She ironed in the dining room stacking the pressed clothes in stacks for each of her daughters. She taught me how to iron pillowcases and my father's handkerchiefs. We even had a mangle down in the basement that was not used, but nonetheless, we had one! The mangle could be used to iron sheets, tablecloths and such.
The memories flood back as I write. First of all, I was always drawn to the scent of freshly ironed clothes. Ah! My mother would stack the clothes and just walking by would give me a wonderful scent. When we were going on a family vacation road trip, I could count on spending time in the dining room taking in that scent. Today when I iron, I use an Egyptian linen spray when ironing in an attempt to capture my mother, her ironing and just being close to her again.
One summer while in middle school, I was reading Daphne DuMaurier's Rebecca. As the story reached the climax, I left my bed where I had been reading and went to sit in the dining room as my mother ironed. She asked if I was okay and I replied that the story was a little frightening and I wanted to be with other people. She smiled and continued ironing.
Once married, my ironing stories continued. I could not iron Jack's military shirts as they had to have a "military press" requiring special creases at definite points. In those early days, we pinched pennies to have them laundered and pressed. By that time, I rivaled my mother in my ironing ability. I was good.
I used my ironing board when toddlers were little. Securely anchored, the board held things I was working on and safe from the reach of little ones. Ingenious! Ironing and my love of long Sunday afternoons of baseball went hand in hand. I listened to many a game as I ironed. Entertained and stacking crisp, clean clothes were wonderful.
I do have one horrid story about ironing. I did iron Jack's collared shirts and enjoyed that. One rainy Sunday, I was watching Ken Burns' Civil War and become a little too involved. Hence a scorch mark on a favorite shirt of his!
When we lived on the other side of the country at the top of a high rise, I found great glee when I had the luxury of putting not one, but two irons down the laundry chute 24 stories up. I listened to those irons fall all the way to the dumpster. Broken and useless, the irons had to go. The management told me to go ahead and dispose of them using the chute. I did not argue. After that episode, I decided to upgrade my choice of irons.
When I have written about our laundry disagreements and Jack's trying to take over that job until golf really takes his time, ironing is one thing he leaves completely alone. Now that makes my day.
I have been bent over that ironing board in a fun gg and once seriously spanked for my sassy talk as the steam came off that iron and soon, my bottom!
So now it is time for us to listen to your favorite homekeeping task and the memories brought back. The comment box is waiting and so am I.