I dreamt about laundry last night. I dreamt I was doing laundry and had forgotten to take the tags off all of Sean's new school clothes, and lights and darks were washed together, with the darks bleeding into all the white shirts. As far as dreams go, it was pretty dull. And domestic. Maybe it's because I do a ton of laundry. Or maybe it's because I've been ironing a lot more lately.
Ironing has traditionally been my least favorite thing to do around the house. There is real satisfaction on vacuuming, folding laundry, dishes....but ironing? It's an awful lot of tedious work just to make clothes look nice so we can wear them, and then throw a seatbelt across them on the way to work and get them all wrinkled again.
Since I've started sewing, however, the iron has become like a best friend. It was unexpected. I never counted on how much pressing I would have to do to fabric before I sew it--and in the middle of projects, pressing on seams and going over them with top-stitching to make them look "just so". The strange fact is that I don't mind busting out the iron for sewing projects. I actually like it. I do mind trying to press a cute little shirt of mine that has lots of gathered pleats around the top of it. That's just a hassle. I could use that precious time in the morning for other things, like plucking my brows or curling my eyelashes.
With that, enjoy: