Ironing

3 ways you can tell I don't like to iron.

1. My clothes are wrinkled.

2. My clothes get smaller daily as I think "one more time in the dryer to get rid of those wrinkes won't hurt."

3. My clothes are, well, wrinkled.

My MIL is an avid ironer, and has the thing permanently set out, ready to go at the drop of a hat. She has her starch can, and water sprayer carefully lined up next to the iron. Almost everytime we show up one or the other of us is forced to strip and hand over the offending item, and she spirits it away onto the ironing board to make good. We pack carefully when we go over there. One time we dared throw a button down shirt into Drake's suitcase for him to wear the next day. Oh, she was horrified when we put the unpressed shirt on him and TRIED TO GO OUT.

I guess I just need to justify my wrinkly unironed shirt I'm wearing today to someone. I did touch it up with my hair straightening iron though.

I crocheted the edging and blocked Soliel last night, and it's looking perfect. I even moved the table lamp so I could get good lighting to take a picture, and managed to take TWO pictures. And then I left my camera phone sitting at home on the floor where I set it down after taking the pictures. My margarita was calling my name and couldn't be ignored for one more second.

This morning I was sure my phone was in my purse when I left the house, and when I reached for it to upload the pictures had a flashback of seeing it sitting quite lonely on the floor. So pictures will have to wait till tomorrow. Hey, maybe I'll even model it for you all if I force you to wait another day.