No slave to the iron

I came up with the name for my blog when I was making my bed last night. Finally, I was putting on the clean sheets and shams I’d washed three weeks ago – having had every intention of putting them on that day – and noticed how embarrassingly wrinkled and creased my “hotel-esque” bedding was looking.

I was kind of annoyed at first, but then I realized, and this made me laugh, “They don’t make homemakers like they used to!”

Not that I’m a homemaker. I work fulltime and have only a husband and dog to take care of. But since my husband wouldn’t notice dirty sheets if they started disintegrating beneath him, I’m as close to a “homemaker” as this family’s gonna get.

So back to the wrinkles. Seeing that the duvet and sham set for which I’d searched for months to get that clean, crisp hotel look – on a budget, hence the search – had turned into “rumbled-hotel-chic,” made me realize how much I hate wrinkles, and as a result, have managed so far to avoid anything in life that would make me have to deal with them.

Let’s start with my job. I'm a newspaper editor, and lately, I’ve been working from home a few days a week and, therefore, wear whatever I want – I won’t get into details, but it’s a pretty comfortable, ironing-free wardrobe. When I’m in the office, it’s also all about comfort, because I’m rushing around a newsroom like a harried maniac either on deadline, just off deadline, or approaching deadline and still stressing as the days near deadline.

I do have to look professional when I’m covering events or government meetings, or when I’m interviewing people in person. But even then, I’ve somehow managed to find the most professional-looking pants, shirts and dresses available for a person who both hates wrinkles but even more hates ironing.

So, as I looked at my rumpled bed last night, wondering where I went adrift during the “dress for the job you want” lesson, I realized, I have the job I want. A freshly pressed blouse versus a nice, wash-and-wear shirt really doesn’t decide that. I do.

So, my long-winded point is that even though my bed’s not as crisp as that of the hotel I can’t wait to check into next weekend (thank you TravelZoo.com for showing me the Sunshine State sale!), and even though I was petrified wearing a wrinkle-prone silk dress to a friend’s wedding this weekend – so much so that I wouldn’t put on my coat in 30-degree weather and held the seatbelt away from my body for the hour-plus ride – I’m doing just fine here in my iron-avoiding world. And if having wrinkled sheets and avoiding all iron-required clothes means I’m doing it my way, than that’s OK.

It’s better than OK. It’s my imperfect life, and I’m starting to like it.