It is really and truly amazing what practical things you can still learn every day even at this stage in life.
That is, as a 62-year-old male who gave up the wilds of bachelordom for the comforts of married life two years ago.
There I was ironing my baseball T-shirts, recently unpacked for spring training.
Over all those years past, I'd just whip out a T-shirt and pull it on.
Not after I married Sherri.
"You can't wear that," was all she had to say. "It's wrinkled."
Out came the ironing board and iron.
I always ironed my Hawaiian shirts, but T-shirts?
Naaah.
I do now.
Anyway, I was ironing one of my T-shirts with "Phillies" across the chest the other day and ran the iron across the letters.
Bad move.
Some of the them got messed up and came off on the hot iron.
It didn't bother me too much, because I've always figured the shirt's not really mine until I either spill something on it --- like mustard at a ballgame --- or have an ironing mishap.
I've had way more of the former than the latter until this particular day.
After I was done, I tried scrubbing the paint off the hot iron under running water in the sink.
"What are you doing?" my wife said.
I told her and why.
Her next words were a revelation for me.
Not to mention my T-shirt collection.
"Next time try ironing your T-shirts inside out," Sherri said.
Ta-daaah!
Where has she been all my life?
Don't ask.
Wednesday, March 21, 2012
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