My uneasy relationship with ironing.
2012/07/05 § 1 Comment
Two days ago, after I did all of my laundry, I was trying to get ready for work and found that I had nothing to wear. One of those days where by the time I left the house, there was this giant pile of clothing on my bed from trying something on, taking it off, trying the next thing on, taking it off. I don’t know what was up with me, but I do know that a lot of stuff got rejected for one reason, and one reason only: it wasn’t ironed.
Which is ridiculous, because what I DID end up wearing, I had to iron anyway!
But what’s my problem with ironing? Yeah, it isn’t my most favorite thing ever, but I don’t mind it that much (I like nice, neat clothes). Except for this one time when we were having Thanksgiving and my mom decided that every single tablecloth in the house had to be ironed, and then only thing I did that day was iron. All day long. It was awful.
But I digress- tablecloth ironing isn’t the same as not having anything to wear because I couldn’t be bothered to iron it as soon as it came out of the wash. I have a theory about this. Growing up, everything that had to be ironed in our house got put in a laundry basket, in theory for it all to be ironed at the same time and then hung up and then worn, so that there was never any “you can’t wear that it isn’t ironed!” drama at 9.30 on a Sunday morning when church was at 10. In reality, the ironing basket was a place that clothes went to die. Once a skirt went it there, it never came out, and I can recall distinct occasions when someone would be going through the basket and shout out “THIS HAS BEEN HERE THE WHOLE TIME?!” It was more likely that something would get washed, chucked in the ironing basket, and then dug out about 15 minutes before it was needed, with much shrieking and waving of arms and chaos. I also had this sneaking suspicion that clean clothes stuffed in a basket were no longer clean. That’s completely irrational, but that’s what I thought.
So I have this distrust of a basket who’s supposed purpose in life is just to be a pit stop for clean clothes between washer and closet whilst being ironed. But I haven’t found that doing it my way is any better. I wash clothes, dry them (hang drying, because they’ll dry flatter or neater or less wrinkly, right? not really), and then put them away. So that then when I want to wear my favorite black skirt from Banana Republic, it’s stuck in my closet, super wrinkly, needing to be ironed, and I need to leave for work three minutes ago. But at least I know that the clothes are there? That I’m less intimidated by the thought of ironing only one or two things instead of a giant basket of clothes that resembles more of an archaeological dig than the contents of my closet? That this is why if I had a million dollars, I’d dry clean everything and never have to deal with it?
There’s got to be a better way.