We are finally unpacked from our recent trip, and Earl has caught up on our laundry. Stacks of slacks and shorts and summer shirts wait on the seven-foot pew in our family room. But they’re hardly waiting for Sunday service to begin. No, they’re waiting to be ironed.
I think Earl has the easier job, as he does all the wash while I do all the ironing. And I hate ironing.
The thing of it is that I love wearing pressed clothes and I’m not willing to spend the money to send everything out. So a couple times a month I grit my teeth, go downstairs to our lower level, and drag out my ironing board. It helps if I talk on the phone while I get those wrinkles under control.
At my request, Earl bought me a fancy iron for Christmas. It’s a brand I’d never heard of before, a Rowenta; and it’s pretty impressive. But then I have always bought the cheap model on sale at K-Mart and then fought with it as the water never got hot enough for proper steam or the temperature dial was inaccurate from the start.
The Rowenta does everything better than my $19.99 iron. It not only steams really well, but you can control the amount of steam you want on a given garment. It has a timer in case you wander off to check dinner and forget to return. It even cleans itself, which means I’m through with the old vinegar routine. My new Rowenta makes the entire chore easier and almost enjoyable. However, I still talk on the phone at the same time.
Earl approached buying the iron in less than a scientific way. He didn’t take the time do comparison research via Consumer Reports. Nor did he ask other women for advice. Instead, he went to one store and asked for the most expensive model it carried. Until then he hadn’t heard of Rowenta either.
I like the iron, but I especially like his approach to shopping. Maybe next year I’ll ask for a giant gem and see what happens.
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