OK. So I was getting ready for work this morning and decided to actually iron a nice white shirt. When it comes to clothes, I’m a wash-and-wear kind of gal, so this was a relatively rare occurrence. I turn my iron on to press cotton that I’m about to cut up for a quilt, but not to do much else.
So there I am, all proud of myself for ironing a shirt, just the way Mom taught me, when I realize the seams are collecting gooey little flecks of something black. I hold the iron up and duck down to look up at the sole plate–scorched fusible web stuck all over the heel. Oh, yeah. Last time I used the iron, I was fusing something and went off the corner of the pressing sheet a little.
But the icky, gummed up seam is under my arm. No harm done, I think, picking at it half-heartedly with my thumbnail. No one will see it. I finish ironing the shirt, careful to use just the tip of the iron. Which probably took twice as long as it would have to turn the iron off, let it cool, clean it up, and start over. But whatever.
Now, my ironing board cover is starched stiff, probably a lot like yours, if you’re enrolled in the same “starch those fat quarters ’til you can shuffle them like a deck of cards” school of patchwork that I am. So every time I reposition the shirt, I have to peel it off the ironing board like a Band-Aid off a scraped knee. FFFWWWT. FFFWWWT. FFFWWWT.
When I arrive at the office, my friend Lisa points at me and says, “Thread.” I look down. My white shirt sports about a dozen midnight blue threads, detritus from the baby quilt I was working on last night, neatly peeled away from my ironing board and now stuck like glue to my starched white blouse. “Great,” I say as I start picking.
I haven’t even made it to my desk when another staffer points at the back of my sleeve and says, “What’s that?” I tuck my chin over my shoulder and pull the sleeve around to get a better look. A faint green blob, about the size of the palm of my hand, reaches up and slaps me in the face. Where did that come from? Ah. I remember. Last weekend’s painting-on-fabric experiment didn’t quite get cleaned up all the way, and my ironing board is, apparently, too close to my work table.
Sigh. Tomorrow, I’m back to tee-shirts.
I just HATE when that happens!! My problem is that my husband feels the need to put the ironing board away, as if I were “finished” using it! Ha! That really mixes things up! I usually have no idea what I’ll find on that $@#$ board when I go to iron my blocks!!!
excellent and oh so true !!
Easy enough to fix, just have a separate iron and board for clothing!
One more reason why I don’t iron clothing either!
I hear that parchment paper for cooking is a good thing to buy to put on your ironing board when working with fusibles. I purchased some yesterday, and hope it works! Better than buying new covers!
i usually wear clothes with paint on them already, so nobody ever notices a few threads, as I often have them dangling too. I like to just shake my head and not comb my hair either. Smash a straw hat on top and go!
Perma Press all the way