I must say this up front. I hate to iron.
On top of that, I'm not terribly good at it. Oh, I get better with practice, but who wants to practice THAT?!?!
Well, me. At least for now.
PapaC and I had a financial meeting last weekend. I suppose it was what we'd call around here a "Come to Jesus" meeting. 'Cause it was time to face the truth and the hard, hard facts.
Basically, the upshot was that to achieve our financial goals, which include paying for Zteen's tuition and books for college (staring us in the face, coming to a pocketbook near you in January), maintaining our tithe, and getting debt free except for the house, we are on what we like to call the MamaT and PapaC Pretend Like You're Living During the Depression and Don't Spend Any Money Plan.
I don't think that title will help us sell any books or websites or newsletters, do you?
So, what does that have to do with ironing?
It means in the quest to shave every dime off our living expenses that we can--so that we can spend those dimes where they are truly important--we aren't taking PapaC's shirts to the cleaners to have them laundered.
Of course, Smock chimed in with a place to take PapaC's shirts that isn't terribly expensive. And believe me, if I were in Smock's shoes, chasing 6 kids around the house, ironing PapaC's shirts would be a foolish frugality--not worth the money it saved.
But I'm not. I have a nearly grown kid (who even does his own laundry), and one toddler who will be in preschool 5 days a week in a couple of weeks. I have time to iron a little.
But more than that, I am using it to remind myself of our goals--a sacrifice made concrete. And hot. And sweaty.
Is $6 a week in laundry money gonna make the difference in our budget? Nope. But maybe it'll make a difference in my HEAD. And maybe it'll make a difference in my heart. Where I can use a repetitive activity to express my love for my dearest PapaC and my commitment to our future.
One hot shirt at a time.