16 May 2008

The Iron as Power Tool

Or: What the HELL was he THINKING?!!??

Ms. Almost-Six graduates from kindergarten on Monday and her teacher sent home 4 graduation gowns for me to iron. My plan was to do the requested ironing yesterday afternoon, then drop off the gowns when I went to pick Ms. Almost-Six after school.

So I laid Ms. Baby down for her nap and went in search of my iron.

And I searched and I searched and I searched - even in the most unlikely of places, like the garage. I found no iron.

Certain I was losing my mind, I called The Husband. The following conversation ensued:

Me: Do you know where the iron is?

The Husband (cheerfully - he's always happy to help): Yeah, it's in my van.

Me (flabbergasted almost to the point of speechlessness): In your
van... you mean, with you? On the job site?

TH: Yeah, I took it this morning. Why? Do you need it?
For the moment, the fact that, yes, I DID need it took a back seat to utter astonishment that he would need it. I mean, to my knowledge, he has never in the 10 years I've known him so much as touched the iron except to move it out of his way. Why the sudden interest in ironing? He's on a job site. Do the guys have wrinkles in their work gloves or something?

I was dumbfounded.

Me: ... took it... for what?

TH: Oh, we're installing countertops today. Do you need it?

Me (still dumbfounded): Countertops?

TH: Yeah. Do you need it?

Me: Countertops? What... Why... How does... Countertops?
He proceeded to explain, a slight edge to his voice because I still hadn't answered his question, that they were installing formica countertops. Apparently, such countertops come with an unfinished edge (just the plywood, ma'am). To finish the edge, strips of formica with a heat-activated adhesive backing are applied -- hence the need for the iron and its heat.

How typical. A man looks at an iron - and sees a power tool.

And that's fine, except that:

A) The one day this month that I needed the iron, it was gone.


B) When the iron came back, the bottom of it was scratched all the way to hell and back.

And the fact that the bottom of my iron was scratched would not have been a problem, except that I needed to use the stupid thing on the graduation gowns, which are made of flimsy, easily-snagged, satin-sheen fabric that shows EVERY imperfection - such as those caused by the rough edges of a scratched iron bottom - like a neon sign.

I'm sure nobody will notice but me, but still. If you want to use an iron as a power tool, get your own.



Meg said...

Too funny! Wonder what else your husband has in the van.

Bethanie said...

I'm afraid to even ponder that... :)

Janet said...

looks like someone will be getting a new iron :-)