Let me explain. There were a good 2-3 years when my clean laundry sat (crumpled, haphazardly dumped, in sad twisted poses) in a heap on an extra bed, and I would fish through it each morning to find the least wrinkled item to wear, while my dirty laundry sat (all contorted, in a much sadder fate) in a pile next to the washing machine, waiting to be thrown in when the earlier mentioned pile dwindled. And then one day, I woke up with a crease on my face from having slept all night on the same fold in my pillow. I’ve woken up with said crease many times before, but for whatever reason, this one managed to mock me into submission. I have been ironing my pillowcases diligently since, along with my (occasionally used) tablecloths, my clothes (even my cotton tee shirts!) and the rest of my what-nots (I draw the line at underwear, I am not that OCD… yet.)
Let me explain some more. I find the way fabric responds to heat simply marvelous. It turns itself up towards the heat like a hopeful Beverly Hills housewife to the Botox needle, and the iron consistently delivers on its promise of smoothness and rejuvenation. I find that very reassuring. Nowadays, my pillowcases look better than ever: crisp, sharp, and luxurious. My tee shirts look newer far longer than their natural expiration date. Unless you’re a card-carrying member of the 100% polyester club, you know what I mean.
Side note: I read somewhere that Valentino (of the runway and multi-face-lifted fame) had his maids (it’s ok, he can afford them) iron his beddings twice a day. Or was it once daily? I don’t remember exactly. Still extravagant though, considering how many items this would entail (don’t forget to count the dust ruffles). I’m not sounding so bad now, am I? I would have had them done twice if I were him.
-- Might as well go big or go home (Laurie, 2011).
Of course once I mastered the art of ironing everything, it was only a short manic stroll to folding everything with extreme fervor. I bought one of those gizmos that help you fold varying articles of clothing (and other textiles too, if one is so inclined) to the same-sized rectangular shape, every time. You should see my impeccably organized drawers! It’s like a Gap store threw up all over them. But wait, there’s more. I started thinking about how I wear my favorite tee shirt, for example, wash it carefully, iron it lovingly, and fold it methodically only to wear it again and again, at the expense of all the others, because when I put it away, I automatically put it at the top of the pile. Right? No! Logically, I must put it at the bottom of the pile, to give another shirt a chance to get out more.
Once I started making amends for this oversight, I inevitably realized that this logic must apply to all my drawer dwellers (ex: my underwear, socks, and pajamas) but also to my closet citizens (ex: pants, shirts, dresses, jackets) everything, EVERYTHING! Dishes, cups, forks, dishtowels, anything, ANYTHING belonging to a set that gets put back after use must be alternated for equal usage. I simply could no longer keep piling things up according to convenience. The routine of emptying the dishwasher became anything but.
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Do you iron your pillowcases? Are you more likely to do so now? Though I don’t expect you to convert to my brand of “ironism” after reading this, I can promise you with a degree of certainty that you will be nevertheless affected by my current zeal with orderliness and preservation. (I don’t know why, but human nature precludes us from wasting. Maybe it’s to conserve our scarce resources, a rudimentary form of survival, maybe it’s a job our moms did well, who knows?) Now that I have made you aware of the rampant illogic of your ways, you will not be able to just stuff an armful of Downey-fragrant laundry in the drawer, or spotless coffee cups in the cupboard, and call it a day. You will catch yourself thinking about what you just read, mid-motion, and tempted as you will be to just ignore your little inner voice taunting you (much like I vainly attempted to shut mine), you will not be able to just put things away randomly. You don’t think so? Go ahead, I dare you!
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P.S. In case you didn't read my last post, this is the iron that will be in my hot little hands soon, very soon! You can now surmise my utter glee.
P.P.S. In case anyone is interested in what I want for the next mother's day/domestic goddess/birthday/xmas gift, this Valentino purse would be a very nice addition to my little collection. The dude may not understand the proper usage of tanning products but he sure knows his satchels!