Operation Linen Blouse
Operation Linen Blouse
You never know what little quirks will draw two people together. For LB and me a well ironed garment is the stuff that makes life grand. Don't get me wrong, we own our share of permanent press. Some days my work ensemble is dictated solely by what doesn't require ironing.
We are a laundry dream team. I do the washing and he does the folding. He can fold anything so square that the corners could poke your eye out. LB's my laundry hero.
But the art of ironing isn't lost on us, no sir! We own (count them) three irons. Bringing two households together meant combining our two steam irons, plus the ever popular traveling Turbo Iron (mine!) That bad boy has reincarnated many a wool blazer that was left on the back seat of the car and accidentally became a little boy's seat warmer.
Summertime introduces lighter garments and for me that means the occasional linen. Secretly, I hate linen. If it just weren't so darn comfortable, especially in this heat, I swear I'd never wear it at all. I can't get past the frustration of standing tirelessly over an ironing board bringing a garment to perfection only to find myself looking like I slept in a cardboard box by the time I arrive at my destination.
Adding to my morning what-to-wear dilemna is my completely straight hair. I wear my hair short for convenience but that doesn't keep me from waking up resembling Don King's caucasian evil twin. If I over-sleep I have two choices...tame the hair and find something that doesn't need ironing...or don't over-sleep.
This particular morning I planned to wear my new turquoise linen blouse. It was still folded neatly in it's packaging. A few deep creases needed removing but that wouldn't take long. LB's longing of longings, the new super duper ironing board, is only a few feet away from the basement bathroom where I prepare for work each morning. It was time to share my linen obsession with my ultimate ironing perfectionist...LB, the Marine. (I have been informed politely, that there is NO SUCH THING IS AN EX-MARINE.) I could do this.
The operation began.
LB "happened" to wander downstairs (as I had anticipated) and found me pounding the iron against the new blouse. The sleeves, collar and front were complete. All that was left was the back of the blouse. Only half of my hair had been tamed....
What are you doing?
(nonchalant) Ironing my blouse...
You're trying to hog that new ironing board, aren't you?
(coyly) You've seen through my plot. Anything to keep you from all of the fun...
Let me finish that for you...
*smile* It only needs the back ironed to be finished. That would help me out so much! Now, you know...it's linen. You don't have to overdo it. It's going to wrinkle right back up by the time I get to work....
He would be finished in minutes...I would be finished in minutes...I would be on time! I finished my hair in record time and ran upstairs for a bite of breakfast. I was so clever I could barely stand myself...
FIVE MINUTES LATER...I tip-toed downstairs. He was still ironing, busy as a cat trying to cover a pile of poop on a marble floor, and cursing heavily under his breath. I crept back upstairs....
TEN MINUTES LATER...By now I was through making breakfast for our son and afraid to go downstairs. I called out from the top of the landing...
Dear? Are you done? I'm running late...
Yes. Come downstairs.
The blouse was now on a hanger. LB held it up to display his work. It was a heavenly sight. It was linen perfection.
It's beautiful...thank you so much!
You can't wear the blouse until you get to work.
What???? It looks great!
That's the point. I'm hanging it in the backseat of the car. You can put it on when you arrive. The seatbelt will create wrinkles.
But....!
No buts..
Well, it's a good thing I bought the matching tank top! Otherwise I'd be driving to work in my bra...
Whatever. You're not wearing that blouse until you get to work.
I considered saluting but then thought better of it. Instead I drove to work as "suggested", sans the blouse.
I really don't have an ending to this story...but perhaps I do have a moral:
Don't let a Marine iron your linen blouse unless you bought the matching tank top.
You never know what little quirks will draw two people together. For LB and me a well ironed garment is the stuff that makes life grand. Don't get me wrong, we own our share of permanent press. Some days my work ensemble is dictated solely by what doesn't require ironing.
We are a laundry dream team. I do the washing and he does the folding. He can fold anything so square that the corners could poke your eye out. LB's my laundry hero.
But the art of ironing isn't lost on us, no sir! We own (count them) three irons. Bringing two households together meant combining our two steam irons, plus the ever popular traveling Turbo Iron (mine!) That bad boy has reincarnated many a wool blazer that was left on the back seat of the car and accidentally became a little boy's seat warmer.
Summertime introduces lighter garments and for me that means the occasional linen. Secretly, I hate linen. If it just weren't so darn comfortable, especially in this heat, I swear I'd never wear it at all. I can't get past the frustration of standing tirelessly over an ironing board bringing a garment to perfection only to find myself looking like I slept in a cardboard box by the time I arrive at my destination.
Adding to my morning what-to-wear dilemna is my completely straight hair. I wear my hair short for convenience but that doesn't keep me from waking up resembling Don King's caucasian evil twin. If I over-sleep I have two choices...tame the hair and find something that doesn't need ironing...or don't over-sleep.
This particular morning I planned to wear my new turquoise linen blouse. It was still folded neatly in it's packaging. A few deep creases needed removing but that wouldn't take long. LB's longing of longings, the new super duper ironing board, is only a few feet away from the basement bathroom where I prepare for work each morning. It was time to share my linen obsession with my ultimate ironing perfectionist...LB, the Marine. (I have been informed politely, that there is NO SUCH THING IS AN EX-MARINE.) I could do this.
The operation began.
LB "happened" to wander downstairs (as I had anticipated) and found me pounding the iron against the new blouse. The sleeves, collar and front were complete. All that was left was the back of the blouse. Only half of my hair had been tamed....
What are you doing?
(nonchalant) Ironing my blouse...
You're trying to hog that new ironing board, aren't you?
(coyly) You've seen through my plot. Anything to keep you from all of the fun...
Let me finish that for you...
*smile* It only needs the back ironed to be finished. That would help me out so much! Now, you know...it's linen. You don't have to overdo it. It's going to wrinkle right back up by the time I get to work....
He would be finished in minutes...I would be finished in minutes...I would be on time! I finished my hair in record time and ran upstairs for a bite of breakfast. I was so clever I could barely stand myself...
FIVE MINUTES LATER...I tip-toed downstairs. He was still ironing, busy as a cat trying to cover a pile of poop on a marble floor, and cursing heavily under his breath. I crept back upstairs....
TEN MINUTES LATER...By now I was through making breakfast for our son and afraid to go downstairs. I called out from the top of the landing...
Dear? Are you done? I'm running late...
Yes. Come downstairs.
The blouse was now on a hanger. LB held it up to display his work. It was a heavenly sight. It was linen perfection.
It's beautiful...thank you so much!
You can't wear the blouse until you get to work.
What???? It looks great!
That's the point. I'm hanging it in the backseat of the car. You can put it on when you arrive. The seatbelt will create wrinkles.
But....!
No buts..
Well, it's a good thing I bought the matching tank top! Otherwise I'd be driving to work in my bra...
Whatever. You're not wearing that blouse until you get to work.
I considered saluting but then thought better of it. Instead I drove to work as "suggested", sans the blouse.
I really don't have an ending to this story...but perhaps I do have a moral:
Don't let a Marine iron your linen blouse unless you bought the matching tank top.
posted by Victoria at 1:11 PM
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