Thanks for the iron and ironing board you bought me a few weeks ago. I had made it this far to the ripe old age of 25 without one and honestly, I had never planned on buying one, but now that I’ve got it tucked away in my laundry room, I’m glad. It’s turning out to be quite useful.
Today was a wrinkly day, to say the least. I spent my whole gimpy yoga practice this morning obsessing over all the caustic, scathing remarks that I wish I could say to this one person. And when I wasn’t occupied with these imaginary verbal jousts, I was contemplating slashing the tires of some other person present at the shala. Needless to say, it was a less than positive practice.
I left the shala crying tears of rage, mad at the world and on top of that hating my self for putting on a few pounds this past week, just in time for me to be a bridesmaid at my sister’s wedding. Lame. It was damn near impossible pulling myself up out of this self-absorbed, pathetic slump and slapping a sweet smile on my face in time to teach my morning Vinyasa class. But I dug deep into my WASPy reserve of emotional repression and I pulled through.
This afternoon the sun was pouring through my living room windows. I remembered that I had forgotten to iron FY’s Fabindia vest, so I set up my brand spanking new ironing board and fancy iron and started slowly smoothing away the wrinkles. Just like you’ve always told me, ironing is really soothing and meditative. As I finished clumsily pressing the vest (you might need to give me one more ironing lesson one of these days…) I felt better. As I folded up the board, I released a deep sigh of relief. It was a minor accomplishment, this smoothed-out vest, but at least I had managed to make one thing right today.
Some days that’s all you can ask for.
So thank you mummy dearest, you truly are one of my greatest teachers.
I love you,