In this K2 of ironing piles…
…are 44 shirts. Not mine. They’re all R’s.
His excuse for this obscene quantity, if you buy it – I certainly didn’t – is, “But I need to wear a clean shirt every day for work.” Sure. Every day until the end of time.
It is a well known fact that I dislike ironing – hate hate hate it very much indeed. I think it is a pointless and repetitive waste of time and energy and therefore I leave it until the situation becomes dire. Or guilt wangles in as R starts wearing interesting stuff from the early 2000s or buys a bunch of new shirts.
It’s a catch 22 situation, really. I’m the sole ironer in the house so if I go on strike (which is all the time – actually if you catch me ironing it’s usually because I’m procrastinating like a bi-atch!) R goes shirtless: nice if your his wifey, not if you’re buying a car off him. Maybe. Actually, that’s a possible angle for marketing right there…
The long and the short of it is this: no ironing = new shirt obsession.
So…I have hired myself a lady who will come to the house and for money will iron all 44 of those shirts (R reckons he can get that number up to 50 by Wednesday).
She’s not going to know what hit her but I fully intend not to feel guilty about this.