I should bake you a pie

My dear, dear, dearest finest interweb,

If I wasn't with Babes, I'd French you.

You know how I was complaining about the ironing the other day? I was SHOCKED to learn from the comments how many people don't iron. When I was a student, I used to iron only the bare necessities, and then somehow I started ironing lots of stuff because that's what grown-ups do. At least that's what the grown-ups I know do. Isn't that just the stupidest reason you ever heard for doing something? I used to iron T-shirts, all trousers, some jumpers (sweaters to the Americans?), vests and even (I'm a bit ashamed about this one) pajamas. I have mentioned before that I can be a little bit anal. Before I had children, I even ironed tea towels and bed sheets.

No more! And I thank you profoundly. As do my children, and my children's children I'm sure. We are liberated from the time-consuming, life-sucking, mind-eroding chore that is the ironing. And will be for evermore.*

I have photographic illustration material of my life change! You must be so grateful. Save it for the comments.

This is what I was planning on ironing:

This is what I eliminated from the pile:

Yes, we all had Nothing Left To Wear. What of it?

And this is what I'm going to iron anyway:

But that must be about one twentieth of what I would have ironed otherwise. So thank you, thank you, THANK YOU dear internet.

* Except for cotton shirts, very creased trousers, skirts, party dresses and anything linen. But apart from that we're done for evermore. Oh, and maybe the odd tablecloth. And handkerchiefs. But apart from that? Done. For evermore.