Wrinkle-free

There is so much I should be doing right now, but I just really NEEDED to blog. Haven't done so in a couple of weeks and for some reason, just can't go any longer.

Funny, when I started a blog, I wasn't sure it was something I should be doing, or wanted to be doing. Sharing my thoughts, daily trials and tribulations, and 'musings' didn't seem like something that should be available on the web for public consumption -- even though I told no one about it, and I doubt very many, if any, are reading it.

That being said, there has been a change in me over the past couple weeks. I've entered a new phase. Nothing drastic, really, but its lasted more than just a day or two, and its made a difference in my daily life.

Lately, I've been feeling very domestic.

I'm checking color palettes in preparation for some Fall painting I plan on doing in my home office, and eventually, my living room.

I've been going home from work and cooking dinner, instead of picking something up on the way home, or settling for a nuked hot dog and bag of microwave pop corn.

I've grocery shopped and bought healthy, raw foods, that require preparation --- things like fresh vegetables, lean meats, whole wheat pasta and whole grain breads and fruit -- instead of processed, semi-prepared, microwaveable, convenience foods.

I've been bringing a healthy lunch to work instead of grabbing a chili dog or Big Mac, and

I'm actually ironing my clothes. This is perhaps, the biggest change and totally inexplicable.

The past couple of years, I have gone to great lengths to avoid ironing -- racing to the dryer to get clothes out before the cool-down cycle and immediatley hanging them on hangers; hanging blouses in the bathroom while I showered; wearing cardigans or blazers over wrinkled tops; or even, (gulp) wearing something that was fairly wrinkled and telling myself I was only going to be sitting at my desk in the office that day and no one important would see me, and maybe, just maybe, some of the wrinkles would fall out as I wore the blouse or skirt or pants.

The funny thing is, as I rediscovered the past couple weeks, is how much I've always liked to iron. Weird, but true.

It started when I was 12; I went to Catholic school and we were required to wear pastel-colored button-down, Oxford-style blouses with our green plaid uniforms. Mom decided it was time I learned how to iron my own clothes.

Initially, it was a pain, but the Sunday ritual soon became something I actually liked to do. Hearing the hiss as drips of water hit the hot metal surface of the iron, watching the wrinkles magically disappear from sleeves and collars; the clean, soothing, warm smell of re-heated fabric softener and steam. Hanging up a week's worth of freshly ironed blouses in the closet.

These days, I don't do my ironing on Sunday nights. Heck, as I just confessed above, its something that up until a couple of weeks ago, I only did when absolutely necessary -- as in, an article of clothing looked like an accordion; or it had sat in the dryer for a few days and no amount of extra drying could make it anywhere near wearable; or I had an interview or important meeting with higher-ups.

But one day last week, I wanted to wear a favorite pair of cotton pants and they were so very wrinkled no amount of laziness or lateness or rationalizing could justify my not ironing them.

So, I dug my iron out of the closet, filled it with water and plugged 'er in.

The initial hiss of the steam only made me dread the process as it was a stifling 76 degrees already, at only 8 a.m. But it had to be done.

As I started in on the job, my focus shifted from the heat and my annoyance at having to iron, to watching as the wrinkled fabric suddenly became smooth and straight. The Spring Rain fabric softener I had used was revived by the steam pumping out of the iron and filled the room, and suddenly, I found myself taking longer than necessary to complete the task.

"Gosh, I forgot how much I love to iron" I remember thinking.

And now, its part of the daily ritual. For the past 6 days in a row, I've ironed each morning. Savoring that self-righteous feeling, and yes, feeling a little bit proud, as I put my wrinkle-free clothes on and unplug my iron.

While I doubt I'll ever go back to the Sunday ironing ritual where I sometimes stood at the ironing board for a good hour or more, ironing a week's worth of clothing, I've found that spending a few minutes ironing the day's clothing is actually kind of a nice way to ease into the morning.

If only all of life's problems couldn't be resolved as quickly and easily as wrinkled clothing.