In a world where skills are often overlooked, my mother instilled in me the art of ironing—an almost obsessive pursuit, shaped by her hands-on guidance. “You never know if you’ll marry someone who can’t do this,” she would say with a knowing eye roll. “It’s a lost art these days.”
Flashback to a hot summer day in 1988, where I found myself in the kitchen next to her, both of us leaning over the metallic-gray ironing board. My mother had prepped the beige Sunbeam Select-O-Steam, set to “cotton,” gurgling with anticipation. A crisp white shirt belonging to my stepfather lay face down, waiting for our attention.
“Start with the yoke,” she instructed. With care, she glided the iron over the fabric, transforming it into a pristine canvas. When it was my turn, I hesitated, causing a wrinkle—a “cat face,” as she called it, which earned me a gentle frown. I learned quickly, redoing the area with more precision. Each part of the shirt—the sleeves, collar, and panels—was treated to her meticulous spray-and-spread technique. “Your Aunt Linda prefers dip starch,” she mentioned, though I had yet to grasp what that entailed.
Fast forward twenty-five years, and here I am in my own kitchen, preparing my work shirt. My method differs significantly; I go straight for the sleeves, then hurriedly tackle the front and back, often skipping the starch unless it’s on hand. My approach is efficient, perhaps too much so, and my mother would likely disapprove.
While I didn’t marry someone who lacks this skill, ironing has become my unique obsession. In this age of “iron-free” and “wrinkle resistant” fabrics, I persist in pressing my clothes to my liking. Even as the world around me grows chaotic, I hold onto the order my mother imparted through her teachings. The act of smoothing out wrinkles is more than a chore; it’s a testament to her legacy and my commitment to maintaining a sense of order in life.
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In summary, ironing—once a simple chore—evolved into a passion for me, rooted in my mother’s teachings. It symbolizes order and diligence amidst the chaos of modern life.
Keyphrase: ironing obsession
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