This week, I’ve had a revelation: not of a religious kind, but one related to ironing. You know how people can tell you something a million times over, but you don’t believe what they’re saying until the time is right?
“Oh, I never bother ironing — what a waste of time,” they’d say to me.
“Superior whatsits,” I’d think (and they’d probably be thinking the same, or feeling decidedly sorry for me).
35 years X 52 = 1820 weeks
1820 weeks X 2 hours of ironing per week = 3640 hours spent ironing
3640 divided by 24 = 152 days (rounded up)
That’s 2.4 of a year of my life spent ironing, instead of writing D:
I started to question ironing as a necessity when my newly graduated son returned from university with the iron I bought him still in its original packaging. Then, a fortnight ago, when my husband commented on how long the ironing had taken, I showed him how much of it was his, including seven white cotton T-shirts (one for each day of the week). He said to me, “You don’t need to iron those. I’m only wearing them underneath as vests.”
Well, that was all the permission I needed to stop ironing altogether.
Here’s how I achieved satisfactory results, as well as cut down on electricity consumption (yes, it saves money as well as time):
- Take the washing out of the machine directly the cycle ends.
- Shake out the clothes before hanging on the clothes line.
- Peg the clothes inside out.
- Smooth the clothes into shape on the line.
- Fold them with care when you remove them from the line if they’re bone dry, otherwise air them on hangers indoors first.
Simple, isn’t it? And what an easy way to earn yourselves two extra hours a week to write, blog, dance, sing, go for a walk in the country, or plain relax: whatever you fancy.
So please feel free to display my anti-ironing logo on your blogs and, perhaps, link it back to my post so we can spread the word and gain as many converts as possible 😉