The organised chaos

I hate ironing

There is a perfectly plausible reason as to why I don’t do my own ironing and that is not because I am a lazy bugger. Well, I am lazy but that’s not the point.

I just burnt a hole in my saree while ironing.

Okay, some background information: I have a saree because I sing in a choir that likes to go ethnic every once in a while. So last year, in preparation for our participation in Choir Olympics, we had decided to go Indian and all the girls bought sarees while the guys donned Punjabi suits.

Anyway, because we are a poor and self-funded group, we decided to recycle our sarees and wear them again for this year’s concert (have you bought tickets yet?!). And because we are going to do a “dry run” of putting on our sarees in 15 minutes flat today, I decided to iron the mammoth piece of cloth, its first since I took it out of its hibernation of a year. And somehow, the settings of my iron was a tad too high and before I knew it, there was a sort of sizzling sound, not unlike the kind you hear while feasting upon a piece of juicy steak that’s sitting on a hot plate, and then there was a slit in my saree. Eeps. And that was within the first three minutes of my ironing adventure.

10 minutes later, I dropped the iron on the ground with a loud “clunk!”, all because I, err, had the misfortune of placing it at the edge of my ironing board.

Sawadeeee
From this….


..to this slit of a hole

Now, doesn’t that bring back fond memories? Two years ago, I decided that my silly organza outer coat (part of our stage costume) was a tad crumpled and started ironing it with a vengeance while waiting for our carolling at Hyatt Hotel to start. And before I knew it, the organza kind of shriveled up in shrunken misery and a giant gaping hole appeared. Despite my best efforts to mend it by pining the hole up with a safety pin, friends who saw me perform at a subsequent concert commented that they could tell in an instant, while seated in the audience, that I had a hole in my organza. Darn.


Giant asteroid went through organza

Well, whoever is fortunate enough to be my future husband will have to do our combined ironing. Afterall, we women have suffered under the yokes of men for enough centuries. It’s payback time, okay.