Confession

At the risk of being hunted down by FHW (Feminist House Wives) and ripped of my title as "Least Likely to Win Wife of the Year Award" I'm going to make a confession:

I enjoy ironing.

This is a relatively new discovery.  A few weeks ago, as I was cleaning the house (note: I do not enjoy doing that), I came across an ironing board.

I know!  Like where did THAT come from.

And that reminded me of a conversation that Wade and I have had numerous times over that last 8 years and
8 months: Why don't I iron his clothes?

At first, it was because I said it was because we couldn't really fit an ironing board in the apartment (maybe a little lie) and then it was because we were both working and going to school and really who had the time?  Then we escalated to Sandra doesn't have clothes that needed ironing because she wears t-shirts and jeans, so why doesn't Wade iron his own clothes?

That's where our conversations siderailed.   It's a pretty good argument, I'd say, and so whenever it got brought up again, I would just repeat it.

So what exactly have we done for the past 8 years and 8 months about wrinkled clothes?  It's a trick my oldest brother taught me:  Put the wrinkled clothes in the dryer with a wet washcloth.  Works wonders.  Then you can shower and get ready and bonus! you have a nice warm shirt to put on afterwards.

It's a win-win situation.

However, a few weeks ago when this ironing board miraculously appeared behind the closet door, I was a little intrigued.  How long had it been there?  Was this a subtle hint?  A test?

Now would be a good time to let you in on another secret:  I don't (or I didn't) really know how to iron.  It was one of those things I faked my way through the lessons my mom gave me so I could get back to the things that matter.  I haven't successfully ironed anything in my entire life.

But that Wednesday afternoon, I was determined to teach myself the ins and outs of the iron.

And so I started out.  It was a little tedious at first, but after a few minutes it became very relaxing.  There's something magical about seeing all those little wrinkles disappear.  It's not brain surgery, so I didn't have to concentrate all that hard and I could let my mind wander.

Soon I discovered, I enjoyed ironing.  It was making me a calmer person.  I found other items in the closet  that needed pressing and I went on a spree.

Sunday nights, I set the ironing board up downstairs in front of the television and I iron all of Wade's work clothes for the week. This makes him (understandably) happy as he was the purchaser of the ironing board and his devious plan worked.

The old me would've sniffed this plan out and not acted accordingly out of principle.  But the new me--I sniffed it out, but then I did just what he was expecting.  It's good to let them win every once in awhile.