Since I was born around the time of the ark, those of you under forty may not know what I am going on about. I’m talking about the iron and ironing board. Yes I know, many of you thought they'd been demolished years ago with the advent of permanent press fabric and no iron shirts etc.
I first learned to iron in home economics class when I was fourteen along with ‘How to make an omelette’ and ‘How to knit a pair of socks on four needles'.
When I first married I followed in my mother’s footsteps. She ironed everything. I stopped ironing the tea towels and underwear when our new dryer took out most of the creases. But I soldiered on and kept ironing even though I worked full time and raised three children.
I love linen clothes and the way to wear them is wrinkled. I just can’t do it. Nothing like a crisp shirt or blouse and my steamer works out the wrinkles in jackets or pants. Now before you say it…no, my husband does not iron. That is another blog! He does not want to take the pleasure of ironing away from me! I swear the steam keeps my complexion, well if not dewy its not dry. I’m sticking with that story.
So what has this to do with writing you ask?
My back has been bothering me for some time and I think it's because of all the sitting at the computer. My friend Vicki Delany writes from a standing position in her kitchen. She props up her laptop on a wall into the kitchen and voila. We all know how prolific Vicki is.
Soooo, the old grey cells were working as I thumped away at the ironing board enjoying the steam bath. I wanted to jot down some notes so I asked my grandson Riley to bring me my laptop to my permanent ironing station in the bedroom. I had an AHA! Moment
I hung up the crisp ironed shirt and moved the steaming instrument to the floor and set up my new office.
The board can be raised up and down to suit me and if I get tired I can sit. There is room for my coffee and a notebook. What more does a writer need? Now if I can only get my laptop to steam.
Its a good spot for plotting. Hmm , gives me an idea for a murder. Either the steam or the hot iron.
This is now the perfect height. And I can still watch the birds outside.
Check out the blog on Monday 24th. Read all about the indominable Cathy Astolfo chat about her writing life.