It just doesn’t make sense to have it any other place. Even though it does irk me when our room is clean and tidy and then I’m staring at the ironing board. Blah. Yet, it does sometimes put me in a joyfully domestic frame of mind. The reason I like it in our bedroom is because if I’ve been “bad” and haven’t ironed hubby’s shirt the day before, I can hop out of bed in the wee hours when he leaves for work – iron the shirt – and hop back into bed quickly.
This little friend should have been a resident a long time ago. Maybe you’re thinking to yourself that I should have been writing this post, hmmmm, 4 years ago. And you’d be right. I come from a long line of excellent ironers. The gene skipped me and actually went to my brother (yes, my brother is an excellent ironer and loves it!). However, after some gentle, motherly correction upon her last visit – my mother kindly informed me that I needed to “step it up” and become a better ironer. And now we have a new resident in our bedroom.
Hubby, this post is for you.
I often have two little friends by me when ironing: