This challenge is produced by GirlieOnTheEdge with the following simple rules:
Write 6 Sentences. No more. No less.
Use the current week’s prompt word – SIN
Click here to hear the author read his words:
Home Help
Many, many years ago, when the world was admittedly no longer young but nevertheless a mere innocent bairn compared to today’s haggard, care-worn and cynical spheroid, ellipsoid or geoid (please feel free to choose your own preferred definition) I was in the interesting position of having a high-pressure long-hours job, being no longer married, and in desperate need of high-quality assistance in maintaining some semblance of cleanliness and order in my living quarters.
I also, being a man (more or less), had (and have) a deep-rooted, life-long, genetically-induced aversion to making shirts, especially, look presentable by the application of a warm flat metal surface.
Yeah, go figure, it may well be the top sin in that (I feel) overly long list of transgressions forbidden to man, but I just absolutely detested (and still do detest) ironing clothes, which irritating hurdle I overcame by my standard expedient of throwing money at it or, to put it simply (okay, Keith?) I hired a person to perform certain basic tasks for a moderately exorbitant fee.
In Scotland we refer to such employees as my char-woman, my daily lady, my home help, or, in the exalted circles in which I then moved, my-lady-who-does-for-me, and the arrangement functioned smoothly for many a moon until that dark day when I received a call telling me that, due to unforeseen circumstances (why are circumstances never foreseen?) my usual angel-of-the-iron was unavailable and could I perhaps wait at home to admit a temporary replacement.
On opening the door some time later I was rather taken aback to see, standing smiling and holding a wee bucket containing rubber gloves, cigarette papers, tobacco and hand cream, what looked like a humpless camel, so I politely enquired as to whether said creature was a Shaolin alpaca.
With a raised eyebrow and, I’m sorry to inform my reader, a bit of a spit, I was somewhat haughtily informed ‘Au contraire, I am in fact your Daily Llama’.
Sound Bite Fiction 
The pain of ironing a shirt that crumples within minutes 😞.
Angel-of-the-iron does sound like a better job title than the others.
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I seem to have hit a common nerve here, Bernadette.
Does no one like to iron, I wonder?
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The people at the laundry may like it 🤷
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You had me at “I just absolutely detested (and still do detest) ironing clothes”, lol
In the colder months, ceayr, I suggest sweaters as the anti-iron person’s friend. Pullovers – no brainer go to. Cardigan type – you just have to iron the shirt collar, a little bit of the front. Good to go 😁
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Good advice, Denise, but we have very few colder months down on the Med!
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‘Simply’ brilliant. Thanks (not) for reminding me I have a heap of stuff waiting to be ironed. Apart from that, it was a fun read!
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It’s good to share a wee joke with a friend, Keith!
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Enjoyed the interesting story.
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Damned by faint praise!
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Sorry! A hot iron doesn’t do much to light my fire.
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Ironing is the worst! And remember that i am a techno dunce, so i have no clue why you end up being anonymous on my blog sometimes.
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We are as one in this view, Mimi.
Maybe anonymity suits me, hmm…
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we go throuogh an iron every few years.. TLW is quite the presser! Good six
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you are a wordsmith for sure.
great six
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Thanks,UP
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“Bless me father for I have worn the un-iron(ied).”
Fun post, yo.
(laughed at the “…it may well be the top sin…” hey, at least corrective eyeglass lenses are rarely required as a result of excessive wrinkles)
lol
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If you got a wee chuckle, Clark, then I am content
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You made me wonder if I still have an iron somewhere and whether I still need to learn how to use it.
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Nah, Frank, crumpled is cool!
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And you accuse me of groan-inducing puns? 🙂 Loved this inspired rant and reminded me so clearly of my ten years of singularity between marriages. However I’d be wary of the potentially murderous intentions of the lady-who-does-for-you. 😉
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Yeah, that was pretty brutal, wasn’t it!
Funny you say that, Doug, her husband (allegedly) committed suicide.
True story.
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Interesting circles you move in. 🙂
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A delightful experience. You’re sharper than your freshly ironed shirts.
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Hmm, as I no longer iron anything I’m not sure how t take that, Susan!
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LOL
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Great story! So good. I’ve written 6 short sentences, you’ve written a yarn! 🙂
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I must have missed the link.
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I do tend to ramble on a bit, don’t I!
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You’ve done it again–amazed us all, BRAVO!! Just so you know, having ironed for my family of 9 throughout my teen years, and not enjoying it–I pitched my iron out at least 25 years ago, and haven’t missed it one day. However, I no longer dress for success or to impress–it’s T-shirts and some sort of light-weight knit pants that go just below the knee, for this old gal. They get washed and dried–and maybe on a really inspired day, I hang up slightly damp shirts on shower curtain rod so there are fewer wrinkles. I have a life, and it’s not Ironing. PS: how are you feeling…residual Covid symptoms?💖
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Thanks, Leslie, I do like an occasional BRAVO!
And I agree, anything to avoid ironing, easier now that I don’t own one!
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Yes, not owning an iron–Freedom!!💖 Take care of yourself–I don’t want you getting sick again, you here me?!
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So lost was I in your words, woven together like the finest Scottish kilt, that I never expected that final sentence! What a treat to read your lovely work and such fun!
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You are very kind, Nancy, I’m happy you enjoyed it so much
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You lead us in another glorious romp through the joy of words – and wit.
And that final sentence is a sheer triumph – I’m still laughing.
Wonderful.
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Cheers, Jenne, laughing is cool!
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