Spirituality of Ironing

             Strange as it may sound, there is nothing I love more than a quiet day with nothing else on the agenda, and a big load of ironing in front of me. Call me crazy, but I find this routine task so rewarding that I actually look forward to ironing day (which in my world happens about every 3 - 4 weeks).

            Something about the mindless routine of taking a thing that’s all wrinkled and crumpled … and making it look brand new again really does a number on my head. Add to that, my own Pavlovian reward system whereby I allow myself the indulgence of watching my favorite shows back to back and it’s my own little mental vacation, after which I have a whole new wardrobe to savor.

            Granted I do wash my clothes on a more regular schedule. (Lucky for me, goats and dogs could care less if my jeans are pressed.) But when I really want to feel I’m doing something without committing much thought to the equation, well, I find it relaxing, yet productive at the same time. Matter of fact, I seldom watch a movie at home that I’m not running an iron back and forth over something. (I think my remote control thumb is tied to my ironing synapses. Pick up one and it triggers the other.)

            I get the same sort of charge from washing dishes, (which is a good thing, given the number of goat and dog bowls I clean on a daily basis). While most folks hate these menial chores, I have come to view them as mental holidays. The real work for me comes when I have to add something, or focus on problem-solving, or organizing things (now THAT requires thought).

            But give me the mindless chores any day. A dog bowl here, a prairie skirt there. What’s more, given the gap factor (that break between all the thinking we do in the course of a day) and I’ll come up with a bevy of new ideas just for having pulled out the laundry baskets.

            I recall an overwhelming urge when Katrina hit, to organize my closets, and ironically began to note when talking to friends, I wasn’t alone. Granted, many of us were drawn to donate things as we watched those helpless people lose everything to the floods. In my own mind, I decided it was all I COULD control…as if my mind saw the chaos and sent a trigger down to my little hands to “do something…ANYthing” and best I could come up with was “organize my closet…toss out the unneeded…give things to those who could use it.”

            To me, these moments can become downright spiritual when I stop to reflect. Maybe it stems from those early Sunday school lessons about idle hands becoming the devil’s workshop. Hard to say.

            All I know is when I really want to pick myself up and feel better about an otherwise, lazy day, nothing brings it out in me like fresh laundry, newly ironed…just waiting for that day when I’m running behind and will be so

glad I have clean clothes awaiting as this scenario happens far more often than laundry day.