My antagonist: The Iron

The Good Lord knows there's not exactly a shortage of daily-living activities I don't particularly ever look forward to tackling. For instance, cooking and cleaning. Both are clearly necessary to do, but I can't say I really enjoy doing either one, as so many people seem to. I think I'm just not wired to find pleasure in such things; however, Yoda would likely instead remark that "inherent laziness... strong in him, this force is." Yet, even with menial tasks like cooking & cleaning, I do come to feel a sense of worth & accomplishment once I begin, and that provides enough motivation to do the task well & thoroughly.

But this ironing business... Ugh. I simply detest it. It's just not any fun at all, nor is it in any way for me a satisfying work result like a clean room or a nutritious & reasonably edible dinner is. Good music helps ease the drudgery, but not even this would make ironing enjoyable to me. And since I have no impressive ironing skills or any such knack for ironing whatsoever, I suppose that adds to my dread of this particular necessary evil. I'm not bad at the task itself, I'm just not gifted with any "touch", speed, or any other redeeming ironing aptitude.

You may be asking yourself, "Why doesn't Chris shut up already and just take his stupid shirts to the cleaners?" I'm too cheap for one thing, and once again, that would involve work like regularly going hither-and-yon to the cleaners, and carefully scheduling certain shirts to be gone at certain times... "It's Tuesday! But where's my lucky 'Tuesday' rayon-chihuahua blend, wide-lapel safari shirt?!? Drat - it's at the cleaners!" Clearly, this is no good.

And so I choose to do it myself, albeit begrudgingly. Harrumph!