What have you done to me? I just caught myself ironing t-shirts!
I will confess to not being much of an iron-er. Back in Ohio, when my husband had actual free time, he did all of the ironing, which seemed only fair, as 99.6% of all the ironing to be done belonged to him. We move here, he’s out of the house 12-13 hours a day, and the ironing falls to me. Why, may I ask, is your country so obsessed with ironing? And why, for heaven’s sake, am I suddenly ironing t-shirts and pillowcases, things I would never have touched with an iron before? Perhaps it’s a test of my loyalty to Queen and country, maybe someone has secretly implanted a “you-must-iron-everything” chip in my brain so that I will follow the lead of British citizens everywhere who iron the duvet covers, the sheets, even (oh heaven help us, I must whisper it) their jeans?? And possibly even boxer shorts? (Which I may or may not have witnessed but have thus far never engaged in.)
Someone, please: send help. Unplug my iron, put away the ironing board, wrinkle all my clothes. Clearly, I need an intervention.
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