No, that is not a pile of dirty laundry (I wish). Those clothes are CLEAN! This is my dreaded ironing pile, which currently stands between 2-3 feet high. Now, I know everyone is going to think, "Why the heck is she ironing? This isn't 1950 and it doesn't matter!" Unfortunately, I was raised by an ironer, probably the ironing master! My mom would spend hours watching movies and TV shows in our basement while tacking the family wrinkles. It is arguably in my blood.
Please don't think I have such a huge closet that this pile is 100% mine. While I do have a clothing addiction, the majority of this pile belongs to my darling husband. His love of wearing button downs to work is the main contributing factor to this pile, because I abhor ironing them. Heck, even my daughters have an item or two in this pile. How a 3 year old and a 5 year old get to wear clothing that wrinkles is beyond me.
Nevertheless, the monster lurks in my closet, taunting me daily with clothes I would love to wear but must first dig OUT of the pile, and then (horror of horrors) iron. Truthfully, I don't mind ironing overly much. It is something to do while I catch up on my DVR'd guilty pleasures (Deadliest Catch, EastEnders, Warehouse 13, etc). It is just the size of the monstrous pile that terrifies me! Even if I take out all of my hubby's button downs (which we have agreed I do not have to iron if I don't want to), it is still a daunting task to undertake.
So I will do what I must do. Tackle the mountain head on. Make the effort to get out the starch and wrestle the wrinkles into submission! Act like the 1950's housewife my my tried to raise me to be!
Tomorrow. Definitely tomorrow......
Or maybe next week.
Maybe I should just buy something new to wear instead. That would be much easier.