I absolutely hate ironing. H. A. T. E. it. With this hatred comes bad feelings, cursing, evil speaking, bad thoughts and on and on. That said, I have had to iron a shirt about 20 times in the last month. It all started with some online shopping from Kohls. I needed a new white shirt, and Kohls was having an online special for a wrinkle free white shirt. Perfect right? I was hooked, lined, and sinkered right away (that's a fishing reference). I couldn't wait for my new shirt to arrive. My previous wrinkle free white shirt had served me well. Faithfully keeping the wrinkles off and being wearable right out of the dryer week after week. At about age 10, it gave up the ghost. The other white shirt in the closet was not wrinkle free. It was more like the birthplace of all wrinkles. A wrinkle extravaganza. It required the services of a seldom used item in our house...the hot iron. After just one episode of the hot iron, I started shopping. That's where Kohls comes in. So the day arrives that the Kohl's shipment also arrives. I think I was excited for this as I was for the release of Achtung Baby. I tore open the package like a 6 year old at Christmas. I took it right to the washer and washed it. Then I put it in the dryer. When the dryer buzzed I was there to take it out. Imagine my dismay to see a horribly wrinkled shirt. How could this be? I was mortified. I read the label. No mention of wrinkle free anywhere. As the anger in me began to rise, I once again fetched the iron and ironed out the wrinkles. I did that for the next 5 weeks, including today.
Here is where I interject this thought: Shouldn't my wife do the ironing?