Ironing

I really dislike ironing.

Mum, this is not your fault. You did not make me iron endlessly when I was a child. I don't even remember ironing as a child, although I'm sure I did.

We stored our possesions when we travelled Australia for a year, and when we returned, my ironing board had been eaten by mice. Nothing else was attacked (I don't think), so I saw this as a sign to give up ironing forever.

Not really.

But, instead of buying a new cover for it, we were feeling ruthless, and that we had too many possesions to move 1000kms away to Bourke, and so the ironing board went to the op shop.

I had a "little" one that I used for quilting, (we're talking small here) and since we didn't rally iron all that much, felt I could survive with it.

It was awful! Really hard to iron "big" things. And, it was embarrassing when my dear mother came to visit because she DOES iron, with a real ironing board at her place.

Oh, and then there was the time that we had overseas visitors (you know who you are) :-) and the sweet girl wanted to iron a shirt for her father, and I had to pull out my scabby board and mumble some apology for the condition of it and size.

So embarrassing.

Well, my shame is no more. Last week at the op shop, I found a perfectly good full sized ironing board for $4. With a lovely thick, tight cover. A bargain. I had contemplated buying a new one, but the price put me off. If I was spending that kind of money then I don't want something
boring.

So, Mum, time for a visit I think. I'll find you some ironing to do if you like. (Although I have been slowing converting her over the years to iron less).

And my overseas visitor......come anytime you like.

No shame here!