Ironing.
I have to admit that although I have 100% British blood racing through my veins, I don’t iron a damn thing unless it’s absolutely necessary. But it’s different here. So I’m different here. And when I first arrived, I had to iron, of all things, sheets.
And a duvet cover.
Now, I don’t know if you’ve ever attempted this task, but I’ve lived in the land of tumble dryers for many years and I can say with certainty that I never have—Okay now…it might not be just because of where I live—and that particular morning, it was arduous. Trying. And taxing. For me.
Five weeks I’ve been here now. In the UK. And this morning, I once again, saddled the old board with yet another billowy, seemingly endless sheath of heavy fabric. But this time, the iron glided over it as smoothly as skates on ice and before I could have the satisfaction of shouting, Blimey, I hate ironing, I was done.
A very different experience than the first time round.
And it proved to me, it really is all about frame of mind. Whether it be that you’ve simply decided ironing isn’t all that bad or that life has shown you what the meaning of hard truly is, it’s the way you think about things that will make the difference.
And a difference can sometimes be your steam. And that steam’ll blow the wrinkles out from where they have no business being.
Hazy Shades of Me 