At least, not all the time. Yeah, I know, my mom raised me better than that. But, if you ask her, she'll say the same thing. Ironing sucks. So, you know, there's that. Moving on.
So I have this old, worn, used, green legged ironing board. It was given to me when I first moved out. It was the one my mom used before me, and her mom before her. As far as I know, that's as far back as it goes. Last night, I went to Target and bought a new cover for it. I have this new roommate you see, and she is a, well, she, and I wanted to spruce it up a bit. I know, why didn't I just buy a new one - shut up. Keep reading.
Naturally, my first thought was to replace the cover because hey, I may have been alright with the yellow-but-started-off-white-years-ago cover, but maybe she isn't. So, there I am wandering in Target looking for the section that this crap falls under. I mean, what is it exactly? Laundry? Bath? Kitchen? Household items? I don't know! I keep it in a cupboard in my house (thats 1 category) which is next to the kitchen (another) and the bathroom (and another), but I use it to iron my clean laundry (and there you have it). Yes, a small glimpse in the small mind of a guy. Eventually, I found it. Will I be able to find it again? Probably not.
There must be some gps homing beacon thing in girls that help them find that crap right away.
Yep, I'm going to get hate mail about that one. Moving on.
I'm looking at their selection of covers and settle on something nice, colorful and at the same time masculine. It said "extra padding" and "fits normal size" boards. Yeah, okay, well, the normal size boards were probably nearby and I could have checked and compared to make sure my board was the same size. But, no. In typical guy fashion, my mind was focused on the mission. "Get in. Get this. Get out." That's it. Logic doesn't seem to enter the equation all that often when I go shopping. Most people who have been with me will attest to this.
I get home and relax (read: recline in the new sofa) and kill an hour or two. Then, I discover the new cover on my bed and decide "Hey, I should put this on!" I walk to the cupboard where the ironing board is and at the same time decide, I need background noise while I do this so I will turn on the TV and in doing so, I sit down and grab the latest Entertainment Weekly from the coffee table. I'm sitting there watching the movie, and reading the magazine. Basically, I'm just chillin like a villain. The whole purpose of my trip has been forgotten.
It's as if the male brain has this protective enzyme that kicks in when you start to think of laundry or ironing. As soon as that thought enters our brain, the enzyme provides us with alternatives that are so much more appealing. And frankly, that can be just about anything. Calling the dentist to make an appointment, going into work for overtime, picking up the kids from school. Not my kids mind you, just any kids. Then again that would yield a series of events that could be worse than laundry or ironing .. but not by much! Moving on.
I finish the second Entertainment Weekly and ponder starting on the Esquire magazine, but decide not to. I walk into my room for something. Again, the sight of the cover assaults my eyes and I feel as though if it were able to speak it would mock me for forgetting it. To which I would retort, "Yeah, well, I remembered, I was just taking my time. So, yeah, shut up." I pull the board out from its cupboard, and the iron too - I mean heck, if I'm going to punish myself I should go all the way.
At first, I thought it was going to be easy, I pull off the cover and put on the new one. But, no, of course not, why would it be easy. I took off the first layer, no problem. I say to myself, "Oh, wait there's another one. Weird." I remove the second, and the third, and the fourth. By now, there are like pins
I made my way to the eighth and final cover. Now, if you now anything about video games, you know that when you reach the end of a level you have to fight the big boss or something. That's exactly what happened here, I'm not kidding. It was the most difficult cover and it wouldn't come off without a fight. Then, once I did get it to release, it revealed this asbestos like crap and used it to try and defeat me. I put the new cover on and patted myself on the back. A bachelor's job well done.
A sigh of relief.
At this point, you're saying two things to yourself. Well, at least two. First, did I leave out the part where I cleaned off the board before putting on the new cover? No, I didn't skip that part of the story. It just didn't happen. Deal with it. Second, why in the name of everything holy did you keep that old-ass board when you could have bought a new one anytime you wanted over the last 10 years!!??
That, my friends, is the question of the day. It's not like I couldn't afford it, I just never thought of it. The board has been functional and mine for as long as I've been on my own. It's one of those things that just symbolizes this chapter in my life where I went out on my own and made it work. It hasn't always been easy, and it certainly hasn't been without help. But, I've managed to do it nonetheless. There are only a handful of items that I hold on to today that have been with me for every move I've made from apartment to apartment. I hold them all closely to my heart, and don't see them as things that can be removed for extra space or for aesthetics.
I see them as the people that have raised me, guided me, and helped me get to where I am today. That's why I keep the old-ass board. It's the sturdy foundation and support I get everyday from the people I love and love me. That may not be enough to beat the asbestos, but it comes damn close.
