I absolutely loathe ironing.
I would rather clean the bathroom toilet rather than iron a pair of pants or a dress shirt. Cleaning up dog tracks in the backyard is far more enjoyable, for me, then ironing clothes.
In fact, I rarely iron. I take my shirts out of the dryer, hang them up on a rod, and then spray them with water. It works and gets the job accomplished for me.
The day my mother and grandparents drove me to Ball State University, we stopped at a store and purchased a laundry basket, laundry detergent and an iron. For some reason, it did not phase me that I was beginning an entirely new adventure.
I grew up in an era, the 1960s and 1970s, when mothers still did a good deal of the housework. While growing up, I never had to do laundry nor iron.
After arriving at my dorm and getting everything settled, we took a tour of my floor. I can distinctly remember my mother pointing out this peculiar room, and saying what a nice [laundry] room it was. I think it was at that point I went into a tremendous shock. It’d not occurred to me that I would have to do my own laundry.
When the time came for me to venture into the laundry room on my own, I simply stood and watched what others did.
Clay Martin, an outstanding young man all around, was one of my heroes in college. Not only was he intellectually sharp, he was also always tremendously groomed and looked nice.
Clay always gave me a good deal of advice with laundry. However, I could never get the ironing technique down quite right.
One day, Clay walked to the laundry room to show me how to iron. He quickly discovered why my clothes would tend to become more wrinkled after ironing than coming straight out of the dryer.
I was not putting any water in the steam iron.
I don’t know how I have survived this long still not knowing how to iron properly. I only do it when it is necessary, and fortunately for me, it only occurs a few times throughout the year.
When it is time to iron, it is generally for an important occasion: a wedding, a funeral, a show choir invitational when I am judging, or concerts at the Schuster Center. I tend to get worked up into an aggravated emotional state while ironing, and I’m often reduced to teeth chattering idiocy.
Today is no different.
I woke up a bit on the grumpy side, and I now wonder if it was because I knew I would be ironing this afternoon. I am even more grumpier now than I was at 7 AM. I just spent 30 minutes trying to iron a dress shirt and slacks for tonight. The experience was less than satisfactory, and the results seem to be even greater.
I think it is time for me to head outside to mow the front yard. Generally, it is always a positive result when I finish mowing and blowing the leaves.
And hopefully, this will eliminate some of my current stress from trying to be an Ironman.