Whenever I mention my hatred of ironing, my mother points out that she ironed her brothers' Army uniforms during WWII.
Willow ,'First Date'
Spike's Bitches 48: I Say, We Go Out There, and Kick a Little Demon Ass.
[NAFDA] Spike-centric discussion. Lusty, lewd (only occasionally crude), risqué (and frisqué), bawdy (Oh, lawdy!), flirty ('cuz we're purty), raunchy talk inside. Caveat lector.
Tell her you promise to do the same next time you have a brother in a war zone.
Makes courting plans.
::Hermoine hand shooting up::
Me, ME, me!!
eta: that was me responding to Laura's recruitment efforts.
I'll do the laundry!
Ginger, my mother (78) still irons weekly. And when I'm all, "I iron it before we need to wear it," she is all, "I iron it now, so that whenever I need to wear it, it is ready."
Darn her.
I feel reasonably sure I own an iron. Reasonably.
I'll shovel.
My winter in the 'burbs has taught me that I like it so long as I am properly bundled.
I enjoy the motion and warmth of ironing, but I'm not particularly good at it, so the results are inevitably disappointing.
Awesome, bonny is first wife.
I ironed my cotton Catholic school uniforms back before perm press was thought of. Haven't ironed in decades. If I don't get to the dryer fast enough I toss in a wet towel and let them spin more.
I know I own an iron. I use it to make crushed velvet.
I think I own an iron. I have no ironing board. I think I ironed in college. I don't buy things that get wrinkly.