That was me, coming up for air after a day of Spring Cleaning in November. Nothing like out-of-town guests I haven't met to get my house in shape. All our guests lately have been repeats, like Jody from Tahoe for RBC weekends. Sometimes I can just leave her sheets from the last time she came. The very tall pile of ironing sits to the side of the room for her to maneuver around. It is the same pile of ironing that has sat for three years since we moved here. I am not exaggerating. I wash it once in awhile, hoping for a miracle. Ernst puts items on it and says, "Good-bye, it has been nice knowing you."
Well, along with washing the dog bed, getting the dust bunnies under control and even washing the doors, I have no ironing. I attacked the beast! It is gone. I would take a picture of the basket, but that would be meaningful only to us. The grey ironing basket. The beast. The beast is dead.
Our guests are down for The Wedding. The ceremony is at noon, the reception is at 5 PM. It's a Moldovan thing. Time to come home and change back into the exact same thing I'm wearing to both. Of course Ernst will probably want to change shirts, which starts the entire evil process over again. But I am determined. The beast will never rise again. I'll just turn his shirts into rag quilts.