Leaving Neverland

After 7 years of marriage, I have taken the plunge. I feel like a rite of passage has taken place. I am now a bona fide adult. I bought an iron and an ironing board. Now, I realize that ironing can be a big deal to a lot of people. I know someone, for example, who irons her kids clothes--no I don't mean teenagers, I mean her two- and four-year olds. And no, I don't mean church clothes, I mean everyday clothes. (What is the point of that? Not that I'm one to criticize if that's what twinkles her stars.) Anyway, I foresee that me going without one for this long may be appalling, or even mildly disgusting to more than one of you. Some of you will perhaps never want to be my friend again as you look back on all the times we spent together with me in my un-ironed, starchless clothing. Still others will wonder how I have possibly gotten by this long without one. It is a mystery, folks. Let's just say the old missionary trick involving a spray bottle and a clothes dryer has worked well for us.

So why the resistance for so long, you ask? Well, in the first three years of our marriage, there was simply no room for something as large as an ironing board in our 400 square foot apartment. We did own an iron, but we never used it for clothing. Its exclusive purpose was to wax our skis. Who would want to get lint in their ski wax, after all? Then, as we moved on to progressively larger abodes, the purchase just seemed to always fall neglected to the bottom of the list. I'd gotten along for this long without one, right? And I must admit, ironing has never been one of those domestic tasks that has proved absolutely necessary (like actually washing clothes, which I'd say is pretty important) or something that I particularly enjoy (like cooking). In many ways, my avoidance of the chore was a mild resistance to the growing list of domestic tasks that have slowly encroached on my free time over the years.

Well, it seems the purchase is now unavoidable as Jason is finding it increasingly necessary to wear dressier clothes to work. And because I love my husband and appreciate his efforts to provide so well for our family, I decided to take the plunge. So Monday afternoon found me cramming an ironing board into the front seat of my car in the Target parking lot. (It wouldn't fit in the trunk of our sedan.)

So there you have it. The pinnacle of my domesticity. There's nowhere else to go but down....

Right?