My second favorite household chore is ironing. My first being hitting my head on the top bunk bed until I faint.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
The only time I ever enjoyed ironing was the day I accidentally got gin in the steam iron.
When my dad needed a shirt ironed, he would yell downstairs to my mother, who would drop everything and iron his shirt.
I was ironing my own clothes when I was 11 years old. My mental strength goes back to those days.
When I'm not working on the ground, spending time with my husband and daughter puts me at ease.
Ironing is comfort. It's control. I'm a nutty person who likes to make sure everything is in its place.
Every time I come home, it is the same great pleasure to lie down in my bed. That's when I think, 'home sweet home.'
I like listening to books as well, as that way you can iron at the same time.
When I was so fatigued that I couldn't move, the excitement of going to the barn and getting my foot in the stirrup would make me crawl out of bed.
I love washing, hoovering, ironing, you name it. I find it very therapeutic.
I find it soothing to take something wrinkled and make it smooth. It feels anticipatory. It's what I do before a celebration. And nobody bothers me when I'm ironing.