I iron my shirts.
I enjoy dressing to look good, at least as good as a middle-aged man can. You might even call me a clothes horse. I style myself conservatively, but I appreciate quality clothing. For work, I tend to wear jeans or khakis with nice dress or sport shirts. The tag may say No Iron, but no shirt never comes out of the dryer crisp enough for me. I iron them all.
While I’ve been working from home during this global pandemic, I’m just wearing my pullovers. Sweaters and rugby shirts (I love rugby shirts!) on the colder days, and polos on the warmer days. My iron has gone unused.
I rather like ironing, even though it’s hard to find time for it. It’s a simple, repetitive task that I do well. When I finish a pile of shirts, I enjoy the feeling of having finished something. I get little of that satisfaction in my line of work, given its nature.
It’s also sort of meditative to iron. Even though it’s a simple and quiet activity, it consumes enough of my attention to calm my wandering thoughts.
My thoughts are extra wander-y right now. I keep trying not to think about the long-term effects of our current world situation. How long will we be in social isolation? How many people will get sick, how many will die? Who of my friends and family will get sick or die? How badly will the economy tank? How badly will that harm my family?
Fortunately, with everybody home, my other meditative bit of housework has mutiplied: washing the dishes. Our dishwasher has been broken for months, and so many other things require our attention first that I expect it will stay that way for months yet. Not that I mind. I rather like washing the dishes for the same reason I like to iron. So every day when I quit work, I walk into the kitchen and wash the dishes.
Only one other isolation report to share today, from yashicachris.