What's this thing you call an iron?

I don't iron. Ever.

If I come across an article of clothing that needs to be ironed, I throw it in the laundry basket and hope it makes it's way through the laundry cycle and ends up unwrinkled. For real.

It drives J a bit insane, I think. He doesn't say anything, but he does tend to just kind of roll his eyes. So after I let a basket of clean clothes sit a bit too long...and they all needed re-washed...err...ironed, I decided to give it a go.

J asked me if I was sure I knew what I was doing while I battled opening the ironing board (after I had to ask him where to even find the ironing board and iron...) I told him, "Of course!" He just watched, amused, while I tried everything to get the stupid thing opened and set up. I'm kind of a know-it-all. Okay, I'm really a know-it-all, so after insisting I knew how to set it up, I was not going to ask for help.

And I didn't. After a good five minutes I got it opened.

And then on to the iron.

It wasn't until after everything was ironed well enough that we'd wear the clothes (though still a bit wrinkly), and after I complained that our iron sucked, that J informed me that it helps if you put water in the iron so as to steam the clothes.

WTF?

I guess I'll know for next time.

Or I'll just wash the clothes again. So much easier!