As a chubby middle aged sales guy who remembers when we used to wear suits, I miss them because a suit and tie is about the best thing you can wear as a chubby guy to look good.
Man, I’ve been tempted. I’ve started saying I’d try a drug if it was ever offered, because I’m too much of a coward to figure out how to get it myself. I have an additive personality, so I know it would kill me and, honestly, I’m fine with that.
Toilet paper hanging haphazardly over the front of the roll provides a convenient place for a 3 inch spider to hide between the roll and hanging strip. The patent illustration is clearly meant as a sick joke.
But I do like ironing. I do it so infrequently, I associate it with getting all fancied up to go out to a special event.
And everything about it is so relaxing… The sound of the water in the iron, the hiss of steam. That clean smell, rising with the hot steam. You’re forced to slow down and pay attention, if you want to get it right.
Whether you’re alone or sharing the moment with company, it’s a recipe for encoding a core memory, deep in there, pinned in place by multiple senses.
I came here to say this. I go into zen mode when ironing my clothes because I only have to do it when I’m either celebrating or doing something very important to me.
All these other things to worry about, but right now, my only enemy is this wrinkle next to the collar.
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