Chore

I did some ironing this evening. I do it quite often: once a week, on average, which is pretty good going, I would have thought. I could leave it a bit longer, but then I might start to run out of shirts. And I am not one for just ironing one shirt at a time, to see me through each day as it comes. I prefer to get them all out of the way, so that the next morning I am free to choose whichever shirt best suits my mood, or the weather, or the last pair of socks in the drawer. Besides, if I had to iron every evening I would have to get the ironing board out every evening, which is probably the thing I like least about ironing. It's not an unpleasant ironing board in itself, though I sometimes think it could do with livening up, even if I'm not sure how one goes about livening up an ironing board. The problem is more one of wrenching it out from the awkward corner of the kitchen where it lives, and then putting it up without losing a finger; and, after the ironing is done, collapsing it without losing another finger, and trying to get it back into the awkward corner of the kitchen without it falling on top of you. I could just leave the ironing board out and upright between ironing sessions, to save myself some patience and some fingers; but it would take up such a significant amount of floor area in the living room, and be a source of embarrassment were friends to drop in; although, on the positive side, they might always offer to help with the odd shirt.