I wrote this a few days ago. I felt it wouldn't be appropriate to post today because
a) I didn't actually iron today.
b) The dryer has been replaced with a lovely used model that works.
But after last night - when the switch on the "new" dryer failed to fire... well, what do they say? "All's fair in laundry and war."
There's a blog post in the dryer failure. I'm sure I overtaxed it, but there seems to be a theme. A couple weeks ago my starter on my car died, last night, and (spooky music) the first deceased dryer had an ignition issue, too. I'll have to think this over.
My first day NaNoWriMo-ing netted 2,065 words. Yay. I'm a blip on the map.
I ironed today.
This is because the dryer has decided to take a little time off.
I’m not an ironer. I hate to admit this to the entire world, but I’m so opposed to ironing that I practice creative drying.
When the drier works this is easy. I half dry items and then drape them just so. I’ve even been known to rewet something and smooth it out by hand.
When the dryer is on hiatus, this doesn’t work so well, and I get to break out the iron.
The shirt I wanted to wear this morning reclined at the bottom of a pile of “can be worn one more time before washing” garments. A spritz of perfume freshened it, but the wrinkles had become one with the fabric.
As I ironed, I realized I don’t quite hate it as much as I thought. Strange. But in light of the piles of dirty clothes waiting for a miracle dryer fix, the pile of “one more time” garments, and the ones that have been draped to air dry, it was freeing to actually iron something and have it look so nice.
Kind of like I smoothed some of the wrinkles out of my life.
But then I pinched my finger while putting away the board and tripped over the pile of dirties and lost all those nice thoughts.