Since I retired and my wife went to work outside the home, I’ve ironed so many times I’ve sustained a ton of burns on various parts of my body. I think I’ll start wearing clothes when I’m ironing.
When my wife started her job five years ago, she began asking me to iron her clothes for the day. I did it, but I didn’t like it. I grumbled each time and was really frustrated with the whole thing. One day I realized three things: 1) I was making the job very difficult because I wanted the clothes to look perfect 2) I was sexist. Housework seemed beneath me 3) Hot irons hurt!
I used to either iron my own shirts with starch or send them out for cleaning. Either way, there were neat creases and not one wrinkle. I was trying to do the same with Heather’s clothes and it was always frustrating. Finally she told me that they didn’t need to be perfect, just neat. Suddenly, no more pressure and frustration.
I then began volunteering to do other chores and eventually ended up in charge of cleaning the kitchen, bathrooms, and folding laundry. It seems only fair. After all, I want to spend time with her when she gets home. So I’ve learned some valuable lessons during this time including the fact that there is no women’s or men’s work. There are just things that need to be done.
Oh, and don’t scorch her favorite shirt. That mistake is never forgotten.
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