When I think back to my childhood, I remember the laundry being a feature of Mum’s life, something she took great pride in. Getting things soaked, washed, hung out to dry, back in and ironed all in the one day was a marathon that she ran with ease…. often competing with my live-in Nan for the gold medal.
So why is it that staying on top of the ironing is such a hurdle for me ?? …how DID I miss out on the ironing gene?
I go through fits and starts… but anyone who knows me well, knows that there will always be one (if not two) baskets of clothes tucked away in the laundry somewhere waiting on their turn to be pressed and returned to their spot in the wardrobe.
Not really a big deal, until … 5 minutes before time to walk out the door ‘Mr 50 Something’ has his heart set on wearing a particular shirt …and it’s nowhere to be found.Chaos ensues and stress levels rise, until ‘said shirt’ is discovered in last month’s ironing pile …then the trusty appliance is heated and creases vanished, by which time we are running late. ….again!
Where’s Mum when I need her ? …
Wonder Years 
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