I am resurrecting my blog for 2008. As usual, I have no good reason for doing the things that I do. One not so good reason for starting to post for this blog again is that 8 is my favorite number and therefore, 2008 is going to be the best year in the history of my life ever. I figure people should know about it. Another not so good reason is that I re-read my old posts and I realized that I used to be funny and have semi-meaningful things to say. I am pretty sure that this is no longer the case. While assuming there is a casual connection between my current lack of whit and my current lack of bloging might be less than well founded, I really don't care much. Just like when DH (my Dear Husband for those of you unfamiliar with the abbreviation) tells me that my vitamin supplements are worthless placebos, or when medical research disproves the effectiveness of anything sold by Susan Somers; I plan to forge ahead unscathed by the disbelievers. So there you have it, like it or not I am back. And this time I am pumped up on calcium supplements and digging out my Thigh-Master.
Now I would like to make another announcement. I am considering joining the Extreme Ironing association. Yes, there is really such a thing and yes I am really interested in it, as everyone with a pulse should be. First of all I love the outdoors. I live climbing mountains and rocks and other such things. I also love skiing or sliding or rappelling down once I have reached the top. I love the feeling that is gives me; mainly the (often blatantly erroneous) impression that I am the master of myself, physics, the universe, and everything.
Another thing that I enjoy immensely is a well ordered house. I love things to be organized and pretty. I like stacks of folded laundry, neatly made beds, systematically arranged bookshelves and well pressed clothing. The problem with loving order is that the onerous of KEEPING order will inevitably fall on our shoulders. And there are some tasks that must be done that I simply cannot stand doing. Dishes, as anyone who has ever lived with me knows, are not something that I do; at least not without a fight. Ironing, however, is one of those enchanting things that exist so rarely in our world, which both needs to be done and brings me great joy to do. It is not that I simply take satisfaction at the sight of a well done crease or nicely starched collar. It is not that I am relieved and overwhelmed with a sense of accomplishment once the ironing pile is no more. All of those things are nice, but it is the actual act, the anal-retentive attention to detail required, the warmth, the smells of clean linen and lemon starch, the simplicity, the precision; all this together makes ironing nothing short of glorious.
That being said, you can imagine that I went numb with shock and disbelief that I had not had the idea to combine these two activities earlier. I am, however, ecstatic to find that I am not alone in my seemingly paradoxical tastes. That being said, you can look forward to pictures of my extreme ironing attempts just as soon as I save up enough of a lightweight board and a battery powered iron.
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2 comments:
You know, we really should have some sort of matching program whereby people who have no qualms with dishes but cannot iron worth a shit are partnered with members of the Extreme Ironing Association who are dishaphobic.
Yes. I think I'm on to something...
Dishaphobic! I love it. I am going to tell people that from now on. As if it were a medically diagnosed condition.
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