The lost art of ironing...

I had to be at work early this morning because a coworker is taking some vacation days. As if my usual 7:00am start time is not early enough! I was running late, as usual. Took a quick shower. Dried my hair. It's a really good thing that I do not do any more than brush my hair in the morning. If I had an actual hairstyle of any sort, I would be in trouble. I pulled on my black dress pants for work and then stood in front of my closet pondering which shirt I was going to wear. I stood there in my bra...the light from my closet the only light in the house. What was I going to wear today?

As I thumbed through the shirts in my closet, a horrifying reality began to set in. Every single shirt in my closet needed ironing. I will usually wear shirts that are made of wrinkle-free material....lots of polyester. I am a big fan of that 1970s staple. But this morning, it appeared that I had already worn all of my wrinkle-free shirts and we are not quite caught up on the laundry. I was left with t-shirts...not really appropriate office wear...and nice button-up, 100% cotton, very wrinkled blouses.

I used to love to iron. Before I had kids, I was a borderline obsessive ironer. I love the smell of spray starch. I love the sizzle of a hot iron on a cold shirt. I love a nicely creased pair of pants and a stiff cotton blouse. I have been known to iron jeans, pillowcases, and t-shirts....I think I even ironed a pair of socks once. There is something relaxing and almost hypnotic about ironing. Unfortunately, I had children....so I no longer have time for relaxing and hypnotic. Now the only hypnotic thing I do is listen to Nicholas' stories...those will put me under every time.

So there I was...standing half-naked in the spotlight coming from the closet. What was I going to wear? I certainly didn't have time to iron anything since I was running late already and the iron was neatly stashed away in a closet, gathering dust. Way back in the back of my closet, I found one lone black shirt. It was 100% polyester with not a wrinkle in sight...score! So here I am, sitting at work in my black pants, black shirt, black shoes, and black socks. I look like I am either in mourning or preparing to play first trombone with the Minneapolis Philharmonic. Add my stringy style-less hair and my sun-deprived translucent white skin (spring has GOT to come soon!) to the equation and I am looking HOT today. Watch out world...here I come!

I really need to start ironing more.