You may have got the gist by now that I’m not the world’s best housewife. I don’t think anyone, especially my other half, has been surprised that my new found time has not brought with it a higher level of order.
It was yesterday when I realised I had plumbed new depths. I’d done my usual knee jerk reaction when I opened an email from White Stuff to tell me about their latest sale and treated myself to a couple of tops. Well I have no clothes to speak of at the moment so why not?
Of course I realised afterwards that I don’t have a limited wardrobe problem. What I have is a boundless ironing problem.
It was evidenced when I walked into my bedroom, turned a bit too quickly and knocked approximately 2 feet of creased clothing all over the floor. (Nope I’ve never seen clothing described in terms of height before either.) It was a pleasant surprise. I’d forgotten I even owned some of it.
Now for clarity I don’t iron anything unless it looks truly awful. It’s amazing how few creases you can see if you tuck your children’s tops into their skirts and button a cardigan over the top.
Of course there are some items that I just can’t cover up with knitwear. Foolish beautiful items that I bought in a fit of peak, or probably in a sale. The turnaround time of these more labour intensive clothing items is so long that if I wear one people say “I like your top, have you been shopping?” “No” I reply “I just did my six monthly ironing yesterday whilst watching Ghost.”
After that things look up for about six weeks while I wear something different every day and I feel just a little bit grown up. Then the inevitable happens and I go back to the T-shirt, jumper and jeans combo until I can be bothered to wrestle with the ironing board again.
I am eternally thankful that Paul a) works for himself and b) does so in the type of industry where geek scruffy is always acceptable. It’s a good job too since currently every shirt he owns is in the ironing pile. Or should I say lying on the floor where I haven’t quite got round to picking it up yet. And he is even less likely to feel the need to iron than I am.
So has the ironing made it to the top of my to do list yet?
No. I hate it. It’s lower down even than the filing. And a darned sight further down than blogging…