In my opinion, ironing clothes is pointless. You just end up having to wash them all over again at the end of the day, and once again, they’re wrinkled. But, if we don’t iron our clothes, we take the risk of others thinking we have a personality flaw. I’m just as guilty as the next when I see someone donning something wrinkled. “Why’d she wear that? It’s all wrinkled! She must be a little wacko!”
As a result, I now have a closet full of brand new shirts that I’ve worn only once. They went from being neatly starched and pressed in the store to crumpled up in a ball in my dryer. I tell myself I’ll get around to doing my ironing the next chance I get. That chance never seems to come. So I decided to send these annoying shirts to the cleaners and pay the ungodly fee per shirt, just so I’d have a chance to wear them again. The next day, they were returned with a note stating that they don’t do women’s shirts because they’re too time consuming, and they don’t make a profit from them. Finally, after a good six months went by, I begrudgingly pulled the ironing board out after a long evening at work. I tell myself that I can go to bed after ironing just two shirts.
Then the most incredible discovery happens for me. I actually have time to think about things, something I’m rarely afforded. This is beautiful. I’m thinking about the past, I’m thinking about the present. Before I knew it, every single shirt had been ironed and I emerged full of thought and beautiful memories.