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’.
The pain of ironing a shirt that crumples within minutes 😞.
Angel-of-the-iron does sound like a better job title than the others.
I seem to have hit a common nerve here, Bernadette.
Does no one like to iron, I wonder?
The people at the laundry may like it 🤷
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 😁
Good advice, Denise, but we have very few colder months down on the Med!
‘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!
It’s good to share a wee joke with a friend, Keith!
Enjoyed the interesting story.
Damned by faint praise!
Sorry! A hot iron doesn’t do much to light my fire.
https://ladysighs.wordpress.com/2021/02/04/light-my-fire/
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.
We are as one in this view, Mimi.
Maybe anonymity suits me, hmm…
we go throuogh an iron every few years.. TLW is quite the presser! Good six
you are a wordsmith for sure.
great six
Thanks,UP
“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
If you got a wee chuckle, Clark, then I am content
You made me wonder if I still have an iron somewhere and whether I still need to learn how to use it.
Nah, Frank, crumpled is cool!
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. 😉
Yeah, that was pretty brutal, wasn’t it!
Funny you say that, Doug, her husband (allegedly) committed suicide.
True story.
Interesting circles you move in. 🙂
A delightful experience. You’re sharper than your freshly ironed shirts.
Hmm, as I no longer iron anything I’m not sure how t take that, Susan!
LOL
Great story! So good. I’ve written 6 short sentences, you’ve written a yarn! 🙂
I must have missed the link.
I do tend to ramble on a bit, don’t I!
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?💖
Thanks, Leslie, I do like an occasional BRAVO!
And I agree, anything to avoid ironing, easier now that I don’t own one!
Yes, not owning an iron–Freedom!!💖 Take care of yourself–I don’t want you getting sick again, you here me?!
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!
You are very kind, Nancy, I’m happy you enjoyed it so much
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.
Cheers, Jenne, laughing is cool!