|This is a Dry Cleaning Press. Beautiful, isn't it?|
I began to go around the room and take note that these men, whose shirts alone made them look like they could run for a seat in the Senate, must have good wives. "Oh!," I thought to myself upon looking at one particular fellow, "he must have a good wife. I can just tell she cares." I guess it's a woman thing. I don't know. But that was my thought. And I looked back at my husband, sitting next to me clueless as to what pointless thoughts were swirling in my brain, and my smile waned. I realized that not once in over 8 years of marriage had it even occurred to me that my man might like a nicely ironed shirt. Not everyday, mind you. We don't have one of those money trees growing in our backyard. But perhaps every once in a while? Maybe he too, like me, would appreciate the complete disappearance of any unwelcome wrinkles or creases in his shirts.
And again, I looked at Ryan, the one who still takes my breath away every day, and I felt a little sorry that he'd gotten stuck with me and my cleaning abilities, or lack thereof. A gal who, even on my best days, can't iron a lick, and relies almost entirely on my dryer to get rid of those stubborn wrinkles. That's right. I am the kinda gal who will dampen a wrinkled shirt and stick it in the dryer with a towel or two. Phew...feels good to finally admit that. (Did anyone else just hear my mom start crying? Sorry mom. This is not your fault. You tried.) Can I also admit that the iron comes out in 911 cases only? It does. Emergencies only. Here she is. My iron:
And so, sitting there in Sunday School, I reconciled within myself that I was, in fact, not the worst wife ever to grace this world.
And then I looked down and saw the stark white socks my husband was wearing with his black dress pants and black dress shoes. I realized immediately that I had forgotten to do the dark laundry and my husband was forced to wear the white socks. I am grateful that he could care less about things like that. I, on the other hand, feel like this is a direct reflection on me. I sank a little lower in my seat at this moment.
So, as soon as church was out, I promptly went home and did laundry. I also took a few of his shirts to get dry cleaned. Because that's also the kind of gal I am.
|Please notice the ironed shirt he is wearing.|
|I think he still likes me.|