A Hot and Pressing Issue

Those of you who know me well ought to find no small bit of irony here.

Perhaps I should preface this story by telling everyone that when I was in bootcamp, I was made the official ironer for division. On regular duty, I could make quite a pretty penny the night before inspections.

My wife and I have a very handy arrangement. She hates ironing and has no particular aversion to doing the laundry, while I hate the time and work that goes into it. So we delineate the duties--she does all the laundry and I do all the ironing.

I am, you see, anal retentive about ironing. I do it a lot. Daily. In fact, I rarely leave the house without freshly creased clothing.

It's a disease. I'm taking injections.

So I snap some images of the new apartment with my cellphone. To send home and give my wife some idea of what the place looks like. Since she'll be spending a fair bit of time there. You get the idea.

And what do I get for my thoughtfulness, but mockery and laughter. You see, I have no furniture. It won't be delivered for a few weeks yet. I'm sleeping on an air-matress my wife sent me from Colorado. That constitutes the entirety of my new apartment's decor.

Oh yeah, and the ironing board I borrowed from my cousin...