I spent several hours yesterday trying to get a working iron, the kind you press clothes and fabric with. Good grief. I thought I was smarter than the woman in this tale. (More)
Midday Matinee is our people watching, people doing and people being feature. Join the Woodland Creatures for an afternoon break.
For the record, I don’t have many clothes that require ironing. I use one for quilting projects only. I am a campground host in the summer and campers are not generally speaking wearing starched shirts or finely creased pants.
I was sewing little gift bags to hold favors for my youngest granddaughter’s birthday party. The last step is to fold over the top to make a casing for the ribbon to go through. The ribbon both closes the bag and makes a handle. These are maybe 5 x 8″.
Ironing the fold before trying to sew it eliminates pinning and weird bunching up of fabric. It is an important step. I had borrowed my son’s iron and used it when quilting. It worked fine. It worked fine on the first two bags and I took a short break. The iron has an automatic shutoff. When I came back I could not make it turn back on.
I tried plugging it into another outlet. Nada. I tried plugging my computer into the outlet where the iron didn’t work and my computer worked fine. Darn. I went upstairs and asked my D-I-L if they had another iron. She laughed and said, “I rarely use that one. Why would we need two?”
A neighbor was over and volunteered hers. I politely declined as I had come to think it was me and I didn’t want to kill off her iron too. I decided to drive the 7 miles to my camper (in storage) and get my iron. In the process I met my son in the driveway. He agreed to come with and help me take the cover off the camper. I told him about the iron not working. I grabbed mine out of the camper and then he went to Target to buy a new one. He said his old one was really old and not holding steam. He is the primary user of their iron.
The house now has three irons. When I go down to my bag project I decide to try the original iron one more time. Son of a gun, it turns on just fine. I know I don’t understand computers but I did think I understood irons. The good news is that I finished all the bags. If there is a lesson in here, it beats me. I did grin when my son called me “the iron lady.”