Ironing 101

Tiffany's mom Patty taught me how to iron this weekend.

The lesson didn't start off very well.

"Okay, Rebequita, first, get me the iron," Patty said, in her Peruvian accent.

"Ummmm..." I said.

"This ought to be fun," Tiffany observed. "Watch this, Mom."

I made my way to one of the two closets in our apartment.

"Cold!" Tiffany shouted.

I changed course and headed to the other closet.

"Colder!" Tiffany yelled.

"I know!" I cried, turning on my heel and heading for the kitchen, where I remembered I'd seen the iron tucked in a drawer we never open along with our heating pad and a slew of probably expired medicines.

It was there.

I can count on one hand the times I've ironed in my life. I find it an incredibly tedious task. Also, I'm spatially challenged and can never remember what I've already done (an alternate explanation is that I'm such a bad ironer I can't tell what's already been ironed).

What I do is this: when my iron-worthy clothes come out of the wash, I immediately hang them up to dry if they cannot go in the dryer. If they can go in the dryer, I dry them and immediately hang them up, folding them along the place a pleat would be if I bothered to iron them. I tell you, this method works. Once, a co-worker complimented me on the wrinkle-free quality of my clothes. Ha!

In truth, the iron intimidates me.

"Rebequita, don't be afraid of the iron," Patty scolded, grabbing the appliance from my hand and smushing it as hard as she could down on my pant legs.

I took the iron back.

"Okay, Rebequita, look what you just did," Patty said, taking the iron out of my hand again. "You ironed over a seam. Now you've made a line on the fabric that will not go away. But it's okay, that's why I turned the pants inside-out. That way you cannot mess them up."

Patty rotated the pants until it appeared to me the exact same patch of material was on the board ready for my iron.

"Didn't we just do that leg?" I asked.

Tiffany snickered from the kitchen.

"No, Rebequita, this is the other leg--can't you see the wrinkles?" she said. "Pants have two legs."

Now, come on.

Even I know that.