Tuesday, September 23, 2008

Who's The Freak Now?

Okay I just have to tell you that y'all crack me up.

I have shared some very personal information with you. Some ultra freaky embarrassing stuff. I have told you that I eat my chips from smallest to largest. That I won't share dairy products with anyone, even my own children. That I can't go to sleep unless I have checked my microwave for crusted up gunk. That it drives me flipping LOONEY if Boo is drinking out of a cup with a non-matching lid. That I took my 8 year old son to Hooters for his birthday. That I am currently reading a series of books about sparkly non-teleporting vampires . . . and loving them. That I am counting down the days until the new Bond movie opens (52, thank you very much) and that I would run away with Daniel Craig if he came knocking at my door....

And with each of those things, you, my bloggy and real life friends, my faithful readers, assured me that I was not a freak. That I was indeed "normal."

Until my shocking and jaw dropping revelation from my previous post.... I iron! For the whole family! Dun dun duuuunnnnnn!!

Yes, my friends. I iron. My kids, my husband, myself. We do not leave the house unless we are freshly pressed. Creases in the sleeves. Not a wrinkle in sight. So there. Take that Pioneer Woman. You think you're so cool with your pretty pictures and your yummy recipes. I may not know how to run a cattle ranch, but I can iron the prettiest shirt you have ever seen.

And if that makes me a freak, so be it. At least I am a freak with creases in her sleeves.

Love y'all. Even if you are a wrinkled mess. Hope you are having a great week!

Editor's note: And just to let you know, I iron out of necessity. I hate folding clothes. I loathe it. Detest it. Abhor it with the burning passion of a thousand suns. Therefore, I let clothes sit in a pile in the laundry basket, becoming what I affectionately refer to as The Laundry Mountain. The clothes sit, the wrinkles set. Thus, I spend Sunday evenings in front of the TV catching up on TiVo and ironing and folding my little heart away. So no offense to the Pioneer Woman. I am sure she irons, too. I've never seen a picture of her Cowboy in wrinkled wranglers.

14 comments:

Chris H said...

HELLS BELLS.. you are a Freak! Ironing sucks big time, I hate it with a passion. My husband has to iron his own shirts... the poor bugger. I only iron when I absolutely HAVE TO. end of story.

Katie @ 3 Blondes and a Redhead said...

I almost commented on the ironing, but read your post from Bloglines, so I didn't. I hate to iron. The iron comes out about 3 times a year. Good for you for keeping your family pressed so nicely!

And I'm with Bogart...a damp towel in the dryer for a few minutes is just lovey, but that definitely won't give your kids creases in their sleeves.

Kristin said...

Absolutely Freak-a-delick! You're a Super Freak, Super Freak! When I read ..."iron everyone's clothes..." I thought for sure I had misread the blog. I had to look the term up on Webster, but it's not there. In current publications, they no longer offer a definition. After doing some digging, I did find one in Webster's 1960 version. IRONING: The cruelest form of punishment and torture usually inflicted on a woman with a handheld burning metal device. Found to be illegal in the U.S.. April... step away from the IRON! There are many other useless habits to fill your time with!

Trisha said...

Hey - if you have to be a freak - I guess ironing isn't a bad way to go!

chandy said...

I recently saw a shirt on clearance that was absolutely adorable and would have been perfect for work. It had been marked down to $2.99 fer cryin' out loud! And I didn't buy it because I knew it would require ironing.

You have my sincere respect...maybe you can be the pironeer woman.

for a different kind of girl said...

If you already have this pile of clothes to take care of, you won't notice when I slip that shirt I told you about in the mix, huh?

:)

DutchMac said...

Um, excuse me, are you sneaking your way into my subconscious? I DETEST ironing, and have been turned off of it even more from living in England (ironing is a national pasttime there, so much so, I've honestly seen packages of men's boxers in the dept store with the advertising 'Easier to Iron' as one of the selling points. on BOXERS?? what the H?!?!) but last night, I (oh dear Everything That Is Holy) actually ... ironed. I set up the board in front of the TV while watching a movie with my dear husband, and IRONED.

I'm not kidding. Shirts, skirts, pants, even (no! no! NO!) tablecloths and bedlinen. What kind of 'Ironing Freak' drug did you slip into my drink, and how the heck did you get it all the way over on this side of the pond?!

Want a clue as to how much I HATE ironing? Read my blog from 17 June called 'Cruel and Unusual Punishment.' Seriously, what kind of mental telepathy have you set up with me, and can't you find something cooler and more entertaining to hook me up with than ironing?

I expect better the next time you invade my mental territory, ok?

Coffee Bean said...

ssshhhhh... I'm in love with my Rowenta. It completes me.

Brenda said...

Oh, this little tidbit is our official breaking point. I knew we would eventually find a difference and this, my dear, is a BIG one. Your kind scares me. The crispy, pressed, together girl smelling of sweet lemon or some other spray starch...you frighten me. Yes, the pressing is a phobia. I wish I could say I want to be more like that but I grew up with a man who took his jeans to the laundry mat to keep that tight crease popped!
I respect your addiction, but I can never join you in this one. Your nearly kindred, brenda

BBrods said...

You don't know me, but I feel a connection with you. I, too, love to iron. Yes, folks, I iron my guest bed sheets and pillow cases. How awesome is it when your guest pulls back the comforter and finds white, clean, crisp linens underneath. Must be like Heaven for them.
And, if not, then maybe they don't need to come back to my house. By the way, I'm Stacey's friend Leigh's mom - and I'm proud to be an Ironer.
Bobbie
ps My Rowenta crashed. Any advice on what to buy next?

DevilsHeaven said...

If you tell us you iron their socks and underwear too, we may have to have an intervention. However, I used to be like you, setting the board up in front of the TV on Sunday night to watch the X-Files and crease my pants.
Now? I just let them hang dry. Works pretty well.

Bogart in P Towne said...

I don't even own an iron.

Dress clothes to the dry cleaner and the rest does not matter.

When I had a dryer, I would just toss shirts in with a damp towel for 5 mins and the wrinkles were zapped!

kristen s said...

April, with all we have in common, this is the one thing that sets us apart.

I will actually FOLD MY CLOTHES STANDING AT THE DRYER to avoid even thinking of heating up an iron. If I fail to act quickly enough, I've been known to use Bogart's damp towel trick, spray large amounts of my BFF in a bottle - Downy Wrinkle Releaser, or just throw everything back in the washer and try to do better on round two. ANYTHING is better than having to actually iron.

My husbands work clothes get sent out. I'm worth it! (and like I told you before, I have a prenup on ironing, so legally, he can't stop me!)

On a different note, since it's officially "Quittin' Time" here in Hotashell, AZ, I'd like to be the first to say CONGRATS on finishing your 2nd week of training! Look out perfect office (and Paradise Bakery across the street), April's on her way!

Becky said...

I am not qualified to iron.

There, I said it.

My husband actually asks me when we are going on a date, "Honey, do you need anything ironed?"

Oh yes he does! And I love him for it...almost as much as when he has a mop in his hand!

The Maid
(I said maid, not ancient Chinese laundry geisha.)