Sunday, 17 February 2013


I hate ironing,so because of that the pile gradually gets bigger our supply of garments gets less. It has been calling to me now for a couple of weeks  a low menacing grumble each time I have added another load of clean but wrinkled clothes. I open the door and throw more onto the pile like feeding a slumbering animal. It is only if I venture into the bedroom where it lays in wait, that I have to face the ever open jaws of the ironing board and iron, allies their quest to taunt me closer.
A shirt will plead tortured and twisted whispering in its strangle pose, pleading with its small pearl like eyes, help me!
As the days pass the unkempt clothes whisper their longing and I venture forth an unwilling soldier, to free each garment from its torment. Today was that day and once more tonight I can relax knowing for a few days at least my heart can rest. Well, until the next time........

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