Damn, damn, double damn!

Background:

I iron my cotton and linen blouses and Marty's shirts. His shirts are 100% cotton, most are oxford cloth and they must be starched and ironed with a heavy iron. I starch them, sprinkle them, roll them up, put them in a plastic garbage bag, and let them sit over night. Then you begin ironing. Some shirts may take 10 minutes, some 20 minutes. So it is a little time consuming. Why you ask do I do this? Two reasons, I can save a lot of money if I iron and I am better at it than the laundry. I iron out wrinkles, not in.

Now on to the story.

Usually I iron downstairs but Marty was working at home and the TV would bother him . I brought up the over the door thingy that holds 10 hangers. It didn't fit the door upstairs well, but it worked. Today I spent all morning and into the early afternoon ironing. I took a couple of email breaks, but most of the time was getting ready to iron and ironing.

I ironed some blouses for me and I finished nine shirts for him. As I hung the last one up the #*+^ ### thingy fell off the door. All my freshly ironed shirts are in a heap. I swore very ugly unladylike words and nearly cried. Marty was nice and said that's OK they're fine. No they weren't. Every shirt had to be pressed off. Wrinkles had to be ironed out.

I need a "Poor BABY".