The dreaded "I" word.

I did something today that is very out of character for me and I thought it would be a most excellent blog subject. For any of my family that happens to be reading this PLEASE SIT DOWN before you continue on. I don't want to be responsible for you fainting from the shock and falling down and hitting your head. OK...are your ready? OK here is what I did.. I IRONED....what do you mean what do I mean? I ironed, YES....with the iron and YES it was plugged in. YES, I did know where it was and NO.. I didn't have to wipe cobwebs off it. NO, I don't have a fever. I just had wrinkled shorts and tops. Stop laughing.....now.......it's not nice to laugh at me. Besides....I know where each of you live.................and I have a key for your houses.......Ah ha!!! Forgot about that didn't you!??

For those readers who may not know, the iron is an instrument that rarely gets used in my house. I HATE ironing. That is why woman invented wash and wear. Except sometimes you can't wash and wear because of the wrinkles.

Did you know that there is a correct way to iron? Really there is...you can see it here.

Growing up I used to watch my mom iron her tea towels. How inane was that? I mean really, who cared if the towels were wrinkled or not? They didn't look wrinkled to me when mom took them off the clothesline, especially in the winter when they were solid sheets of ice. They only got wrinkled after I used them to dry the five million dishes that I had to do every night after supper. In my family there were eight of us kids plus mom and dad and I did dishes because it was inside work. I had six brothers and they did the outside work. My little sister was too little to wash or dry dishes so it was left up to me and sometimes my mom to wash and dry them all.

And trust me, it didn't matter to me if the tea towel was wrinkled or not.

Anyway, I digress.......back to my ironing incident today. I ironed a few things. You might as well do it all if your going to doing it at all! It didn't take me long and then I was done with that miserable chore for another two or ten years. By the way, when I went upstairs and told my dear hubby John what I had been doing he laughed and said, and I quote, "Ya, right, sure your were." I just know he went downstairs and checked the iron. I wouldn't have been the least bit surprised if he burnt his fingers checking it. How could he doubt me...sniff....sniff...sniff...tears falling.... Sigh! Why doesn't anybody in this family believe me when I say the dreaded "I" word? I know that you can probably count on one hand, how many times in the last decade I have used the iron. I admit it. I don't iron. You can read about my lack of iron use here where I confess the lack of mothering skills I have and what skill I failed to pass on to my daughter.

Anyway, I hope everyone has a good laugh over this.

And guess what?

Tomorrow I just might put away the clean clothes in my bedroom.

Stop laughing.....I'm serious!