i ironed two pairs of pants (capris, actually, so it was an abbreviated version of ironing pants) and one shirt last night. the shirt was a stupid idea. it's a very nice white linen shirt, purchased by el Jefe', that i wore a couple weeks ago to a meeting with big-wigs and politicians in an attempt to dress up. that was a travesty as said meeting occurred on a Friday when normally it is acceptable to wear jeans and flip flops. the shirt was an afterthought; i needed to iron the capris because my hanging damp method didn't provide its usual results, and i thought i'd throw in the shirt for good measure, just in case i have to meet with the queen or something.
a linen shirt. that i won't be wearing for days, or weeks. that i will undoubtedly have to iron again before i wear it.
i must've been delirious. i do not recall when was the last time i ironed. it's not that i didn't need to iron. it's that i made do with the results of the hanging damp method, even if my wardrobe was reduced to five bottoms and five tops, since Peanut was born.
my boss made a comment a couple weeks ago about a golf shirt i was wearing needing ironing. need i mention he has a SAH wife? bite me.
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