family weddings and ironing
I’m headed up to Philadelphia for a family wedding tomorrow, and I’ll be back in DC Sunday evening. One of my second cousins is getting married, and I’m the representative for my immediate family, since my parents are in Seattle and my sister is at school in Vermont.
It’s always intimidating to go to these family functions, because my extended family on my mom’s side is absolutely huge. Apparently I have 59 cousins of some flavor, most are second cousins (my mom’s uncle’s children’s children — I think that’s second cousins, but I’m not sure how it translates into English). I have, I think, only six first cousins on my mom’s side. Only. Anyway, Philadelphia in particular is intimidating because a large number of my cousins live there, and every time I’ve gone to visit, I’ve had to re-learn everyone’s names because I can’t keep them straight in my head, and they’re all about my age and therefore change as rapidly as I do in the years between visits. So this weekend will be fun.
Additionally, I finally opened and used the iron and ironing board I bought when I first moved to DC, thinking that I’d need them because I’d likely be looking for work for quite some time. Turns out I got the first job I interviewed for, and lab work being what it is — a hazardous environment for nice clothes — I haven’t needed to use an iron in a year. Well, I take that back. I’ve needed to use it; I just haven’t because I didn’t need to wear ironed clothes. A wedding kind of changes that.

It's a cute little iron, but rather useless.
The last iron I owned was this tiny little Rowenta travel iron I bought for college, since my first-year dorm room was 96 sq. ft., along with a tiny tabletop ironing board. I bought it not only because it was cheap and I had no money, but because I felt that I couldn’t justify a more expensive iron. I could not have been more wrong.
I didn’t realize that the weight of an iron made that big of a difference in the amount of effort it would take to actually take the wrinkles out of a shirt. That, and I had no idea when this thing was up to the right temperature. All of these things made me severely dislike not only the iron, but the act of ironing itself, just because it took so much of my time just to look presentable.
Anyway, it took me only 15 minutes to iron the shirts I just did with my new iron. These exact same shirts took nearly an hour with the dinky little thing I used to have. The lesson: don’t cheap out on things that are supposed to help you do things faster and more efficiently.



