Mrs Hg: Can you do that big pile of ironing today, because I’m going to stick another wash in the machine this evening.
Hg: Ah yes, the ironing. Actually, I’ve been saving it up as a treat.
Mrs Hg: Why?
Hg: I’m looking forward to a massive gushing orgasm of heat and steam. I love ironing with every molecule of my body, every atom of my soul.
Mrs Hg: It’s a good job you’re not Catholic.
Hg: What do you mean?
Mrs Hg: You’d have to go straight to confession after that.
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I remember one house we lived in years ago my mum had an ironing storage cupboard built (by my dad) under the stairs. If ever a certain something (clothing wise) hadn’t been seen around in a while, you could bet it was lost in the cupboard that time forgot.
Imagine saving up a cupboard full of wrinkly garments. Time to get building HG!
Do you iron everything?
I’m a great believer in body heat taking out the wrinkles as garments are worn, so not much of mine gets the full ‘massive gushing orgasm of steam and heat’ (as you so eloquently put it).
Personally I’m very fond of the rakishly crumpled look. And yeah, body heat is good… put on a t-shirt at 7am and it’s generally crease-free by 10am. As long as it’s clean, it’s fair game. 95% of the ironing pile belongs to the Mrs.
Don’t get me started on her quirky, slightly left-field style. She looks beautiful, but sometimes I find myself standing in front of the ironing board trying to work out which way up and which way round some of her clothes are worn.