My Big In
Me: Hello? Anybody in there?St. Peter shuffles up to the other side of the pearly white gates and looks at me suspiciously.
St. P: May I help you?
Me: Yeah. I'm Hollywood. Can I come in?
St. P: That depends. Did you live a good life?
Me: Well, it wasn't bad.
St. P: Okay, why don't you tell me what you've done to qualify for entry.
Me: I think I heard once in church that if you are a mom you automatically get into heaven. I'm a mom.
St. P: Yeah, unfortunately that's not our policy.
Me: Shoot!
St. P: Wait a minute... aren't you that lady who was feeding her toddler Powerbars and Crystal Lite for dinner every night?
Me: It was Fresca.
St. P: Let's try this from a different angle. Besides "mothering," tell me how you made the world a better place.
Me: I never hit a single squirrel with my car.
St. P: That doesn't really matter.
Me: You're tough, Petie! What about all the nasty lowfat milk I drank? That's got to count for something.
St. P: Hollywood, don't waste my time. Didn't you do anything in life that fortified your immortal soul?
Me: Oh sure! I went to 3 hours of church every Sunday, had monthly meetings with church leaders, sang in the choir, spent hours every week organizing spreadsheets to do my calling, paid 10% of my income to the church and sometimes I was even cheerful about it.
St. P: Sometimes?
Me: Well it was a lot to do!
St. P: Tell me this, when was the last time you wore pantyhose?
Me: Err... I can't remember.
St. P: Honestly Hollywood, I see nothing here that qualifies you as celestial material and have no reason to let you in. Good luck in Hell.
Me: Wait! One more thing - I ironed all my husbands work shirts and pants for his entire career as a lawyer.
St. P: WHAT!? Why didn't you say so earlier? Your faithful display of self-sacrifice in executing such a mindless, grueling task will ensure your immortal salvation! Welcome in, Sister! Unfortunately, this does mean that your husband will have to go to Hell for asking such an evil labor of you.
Me: So if he's in Hell, I won't have to iron his shirts anymore?
St P: Naturally. Welcome to your eternal rest.
Me: Right on!
Comments
If you are really tired of it you can always save up a big batch and start hauling them to a laundering service where they wash and iron for about $1.25 per shirt. I always say that I am going to do that, but it seems like it is more hassle than just ironing for 15 minutes every time he needs something.
just kidding, sweetie. thanks for all that ironing.
My friend once told me--AND SHE WAS COMPLETELY SERIOUS--that I will be ineligible for heaven because I don't scrapbook.
Nor do I intend to.
Arnie: Yeah, why?
Molly: It's just so wrinkled.
Arnie: It doesn't matter.
Molly: Maybe you could throw it into the dryer for a few minutes.
Arnie: Nah. It's OK.
Molly: Ooooo Kaaaaay.
Bad girl.
Or at least ironing-avioders (until the moment of truth).
Celestial kingdom, no doubt.
1. Buy only wrinkle-resistant shirts.
2. Go to Mrs. Cho at Glo-tone cleaners. Laundered and pressed for a reasonable price. She is temporarily working out of a cleaners at Huntington and Fremont. Her store by Osh on Fair Oaks is getting a facelift along with the Baskin-Robbins and Tinzee's Nails.
Why on earth do you do his ironing? What sort of backward screwed up part of your relationship are you endulging? There is NO reason that you should be doing this. Drycleaners are cheap, effective, close by, and willing to spend meaningless time so you don't have to. If ironing clothes (yours or his) brought food to the wee ones or shelter above than great (this is what is does for those folks down the street at the drycleaners). Otherwise look at it as part of the 50s that you are welcome not to embrace.
Ironing has nothing to do with loving Adam or appreciating his work. In fact not doing it, will help you to love him better and appreciate that his work is willing to pay $18/month to have him look nice.