Forgotten Skill

 

          I broke one of my own personal rules last week and bought a pair of linen pants. Don’t get me wrong. I love linen. But on someone else - those kind of people who look all flowy and carefree, carrying off each wrinkle with aplomb.

          When I try to wear linen, I think I look as though I’ve been wearing the same shirt through three time zones, six countries, over a span of eight days.

          But the pants were so comfortable, just the sort of thing I could see myself lounging in at home. Maybe with a chilled glass of white wine.

 

          This led to something I haven’t done in possibly eight to ten years.

          Yes, you guessed. I got out the IRON.

          What with being retired for a hundred years, and deploying careful shopping – not to mention lowered standards – I haven’t set up the ironing board for possibly a decade.

          But you know what? I gathered up a couple of other things and got started, and realized that ironing can be soothing, watching those wrinkles disappear, the surface smooth out.

 

         I still haven’t worn the pants, but they look great hanging there neatly in my closet, possibly forever.