The work week starts a day early.
They say the weekend is Friday, Saturday, Sunday.
But turns out you have to start your work week at 8pm on Sunday night because you can’t go into work the next day looking a crusty mess in Cube City. It simply isn’t done.
So you can guess how I spent the end of my sacred respite.
Ironing.
Working on the weekend. Oh the iron-y
A Haiku about Ironing:
Crumpled, crinkly mess
Swish swish *steam* goes my iron
Now I can get paid
Photo: NBC
Life of an Office Worker 
It is probably terribly old school to comment on a blog post like this. But that’s me, your mom’s old school friend. I’m loving the posts, totally relatable across the generation gap. Just a pointer, I gave up on ironing years ago. Totally moved to loose knits, no ironing. Leaves my Sunday nights for the inevitable depression as I contemplate all I should have done over the weekend and what I now need to do this week. Why iron when you can cry quietly to yourself in a semi-dark room?
LikeLike
I love that you read this and enjoy it! And it’s funny you should say that about the clothing – my room mate says the same thing about buying clothes you don’t have to iron.
LikeLike