Wrinkled

Many things keep us humble.

Ironing reminds me of why I studied: so I wouldn’t have to iron.

But some things, by chance or choice, are inescapable.  And it is deflating to be appraised, found lacking starch, or a picture perfect presentation.

Short debate between dry cleaning and food.  Food won.

Iron in hand, I was ready to make the uniforms suitable for testing.  At first the iron wasn’t hot enough – wrinkles on the pants kept reappearing.  Turned it up. Worked better.  Took it to the jacket.  Melted the lower part of the screened logo right off.  Panic.  Set the iron down.  Face down.  Found something to wipe off the coat.  Damage not too bad.  Relieved.

But it only lasted a moment.

Smelled the smoke as the children shouted up questions as to what was on fire.

Iron burned right through the cloth of the board.

Kids found it very funny.  Had to smile myself.  And although the exercise did not go precisely as planned, in the end, we were not wrinkled.

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