STIFF STUFF

    I have three blouses which absolutely must be ironed. Today I forced myself to perform that chore and in so doing I was reminded of my past ironing experiences.  

   First, I must explain that growing up we had a lady who came in and did the ironing...and this was before Polly and Ester showed up so there was a lot to iron. To get on with the story, when I first married, my husband was a Tactical Instructor in the Air Force and he wore white shirts. He informed me that I should starch only the collar and cuffs of his shirts, so obedient new wifie, I set about doing just that. This was before spray starch so I had to make a concoction and dip the collar and cuffs carefully in it. Besides the fact that I hate ironing, this was entirely too messy for me so I got a bright idea how to get out of this chore. (I must add here that he grew up in a family which had a live-in maid so he had no idea about anything like ironing.)

   The day came when his shirts needed washing and ironing so I dragged out the ironing board and iron, set it up and began. As soon as the iron was hot enough, I set the iron down flat on the back of his nice white shirt and and went in to the kitchen to get a glass of water. I came back in time to see smoke rising from the shirt so I removed it and smiled. The deed was done! When he came home I tearfully and apologetically told him what had happened, "something wrong with the iron", and he said "No problem, we can just take the shirts to the laundry". Well, that idea fell flat because I found out that we couldn't afford to send any clothes out to be dealt with. 

It worked out okay because he was due to muster out of the Air Force soon after so I just gritted my teeth and got on with it.....as I did so many things in those days.

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