I guess I am supposed to be saying thank-you right now to the mysterious Gods of freshly pressed. I have had the honor of achieving the elusive state of being freshly pressed. I know I should be excited and grateful, but really I just can’t figure out what everyone gets so excited about. Nothing in my life has changed. I am not a better blogger, I have no extra traffic coming to my site, the little orange numbers just don’t seem to be lighting up. Honestly it is a day just like any other except that I am a little more tired, although I will admit, my husband does look a little more professional.
If truth be told I have always hated pressing clothes. The number one, most important factor, in picking out new clothes is their wrinkle free factor. My husband only gets “wrinkle free” shirts and the kids haven’t heard of cotton. Personally if I wash a shirt that comes out of the laundry wrinkled it usually finds its way into the Goodwill bin. I have had the same ironing board for twenty-six years and IT came from a yard sale. My mother is disgusted that I haven’t bought a new one yet. She reminds me every time she visits that ironing boards really are quite cheap. It isn’t that I can’t afford it, it’s that I never really use it. As a matter of fact it took me twenty minutes to find the darn things so I could actually press the suit. The iron itself has pressed more flowers than shirts.
My dislike for ironing probably started when I was a kid. Somehow I always seemed to be the one who got stuck with the chore of pressing the clothes. My older sisters managed to score the pool cleaning and grass cutting, enjoying the sun and getting a little exercise while I was stuck in the laundry room with a basket overflowing with wrinkled clothes. My mom is one of those ironing freaks, everything needed to be ironed. Who irons T-shirts mom? The only positive about doing the household pressing was that finally my jeans didn’t have the ridiculous press line running up the front of my leg. Thank God she wasn’t one of the crazies that required pressed underwear. Sorry if I have offended anyone, I respect the fact that your underwear are wrinkle free, I am just happy if they are “skid mark” free.
So here I sit today with my husbands clothes freshly pressed for his business trip waiting for the recognition of the blogging world for my remarkable achievement. I don’t know how long it will be before I will be able to say I’m freshly pressed again so I really should bask in the glory of today. Like I said earlier, nothing really has changed other than the fact that my husband looked pretty darn good today. Maybe that is the true reward for being freshly pressed and I should be satisfied with that.
Good luck to my fellow bloggers and I hope some day you too can be freshly pressed. I hope you find more satisfaction out of it than I did. If you are feeling a little disappointed or let down, just look to your mate. Perhaps he will look a little fresher, a little more put together and maybe a little sexier, then you can say…Thank-you Freshly Pressed God’s for making my day!
Please note the photography is black and white to reflect my opinion that ironing is old fashioned.