Saturday, September 19, 2009

Ah, the ironing!

5:32 PM

For a while now, I have been thinking to myself how funny it would be to have something that was funny with the play on words of "ah, the ironing!" in a situation which was also ironic and the exasperated claim would be saying that somehow the ironing was ironic. I have yet to come up with the perfect comedic sketch, but I was lucky enough to experience an ironic ironing moment. And yes, I was exasperated.

As mentioned elsewhere, Wonderman recently had a white coat ceremony. I hadn't thought twice about my role in said ceremony until another spouse mentioned, with exasperation, mind you, that she had spent a good amount of time ironing her partner's white coat. "What?" I thought. "I have to iron that? But we don't even have an iron! Alas, I already am a failure as a homemaker."

Near tears (not really, that just sounds more dramatic, and thus more exciting) a mere hours before the ceremony, I frantically called exactly one person who lives approximately 30 seconds walk from my house to see if she had an iron I could borrow. She did. It wasn't pretty.
I realized I not only had no ironing board, but also no great table close to an outlet (they are few and FAR between in our home) to use as an improvised ironing board. I used the stove, as it has a great, and flat, cover. I put a towel over it. It still wasn't pretty.













The irony comes in with the yuckiness on the iron. I was using a cloth to separate the pristine white coat from the yuckiness (see, I do have some skill). The iron was leaving no marks whaaatsoever on the separator cloth, which was cream. I quickly decided it wasn't worth the bother and, immediately upon removing the separator cloth, left a large black mark directly on the collar of Wonderman's snowy white coat. "Are you kidding me?" thought I. It wasn't kidding me. It stood out just a little. In desperation, I dove toward the sink and began to scrub (lucky I was in the kitchen, eh?). I was able to remove most of the mark, but the coat was quite unlike things that are dry. Alas.

Never fear, I was able to iron-steam out most of the moisture and Wonderman couldn't even tell where the ginormous mark of coal had been. Still, I'm not sure that there will be much ironing (never can tell about the irony, though) in my life down here. Meh, who really cares anyway, right? Not Wonderman, thank goodness.

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