MacSteamy and I . . .

I have a love/hate affair with my iron. Yep, I'm one of those people that still irons. Not often enough it seems, because when I do finally drag out MacSteamy there are piles and piles to be pressed. We did a poll one time on our women's loop about the ironer versus the non-ironer. The results? Only a few of us Dinosaurs do. The rest are wash and wear.

The problem is, I have nothing that comes out of the dryer ready to wear. How can that be? Even my sole permapress blouse needs a touch up. I iron T's and jeans, dresses, skirts, crops . . . not my undies in case you were wondering. Nor do I do linens, bathing suits or cats. But otherwise, if it goes on my body, there's a real good chance it has met with MacSteamy.

So what is the rest of the world wearing that comes out so presentable? Yes, I am a natural fiber freak. Cotton, linen, silk. The orlons, nylons, rayons and other on and ons feel funky . . . almost sticky. Maybe it is the Florida heat.

But I am curious, how do other people look so crisp and clean. Do they own their own dry cleaning establishments? Maids? Ironing elves that arrive unseen in the middle of the night? What is their secret? Will you share?

Oh and in keeping with the order of things this week, MacSteamy took a nose dive off the ironing board onto the bed from whence he slithered to the floor with a bang. He now has a dented plate edge and spits at me in revenge. Sigh. It is a complicated affair.