|La repasseuse - Pablo Picasso|
My closest friends have known this for years - I really don't mind ironing.
I've tried to assume a rational, grateful approach to ironing. If I'm going to be able to look the way I want to look, I'm going to have to either iron my clothes or pay someone else to do it. And other people, no matter how well-intentioned, will not be as careful as I am.
And if I really LIKE the clothes I own, it should be a pleasure to touch them, to care for them. If I'm not willing to invest some of my time in the maintenance of my possessions, I need to reconsider why I purchase things at all.
Finally, I try to focus on the gratification of a closet full of immaculate clothing, or a drawer full of crisp, perfectly folded tee shirts. The options that this presents me every morning are valuable to me, and any job well-done, no matter how mundane, should be a source of pride and a sense of accomplishment.
So while I can't put "master ironer" on my resume, I can carry it in my mind and my heart. And that's what really matters, even in the throes of job-hunting!