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Ironing is pretty zen. It's repetitive, meditative, satisfying, clean, nice smelling and requires the menagerie to keep a safe distance, thus guaranteeing peace.
You are my Father and I claim my 5 quid.
The number of times as a kid I staggered back at 4 in the morning and found my Dad ironing underpants.
Mr_Sworld
Ironing is pretty zen. It's repetitive, meditative, satisfying, clean, nice smelling and requires the menagerie to keep a safe distance, thus guaranteeing peace.
My* wife does the ironing in our house. When we got married she'd never ironed anything. I did my work shirts and that was it. Now she makes a massive deal out of the amount of ironing that "needs"** doing every week. It involves her locking herself away with a big pile of laundry, a trashy boxset and a cold drink for several hours every Sunday while I argue with our semi-tamed ex-research chimps about dinner, cleaning themselves and going to bed. She claims it as a "chore" akin to my ownership of bin management, cooking, washing up, plughole unblocking etc. I'll be honest; I suspect I've been had.
*golf club paranoia trigger. "The wife I use" is the preferred phrase these day I believe?
**I've repeatedly opined that 95% of what gets ironed is done unnecessarily