Tag Archives: Ironing

Suits You Sir

We had a fight yesterday, well actually I had a fight, launched a half ironed shirt at Geordie and stormed into our daughters room to play with Lego to calm down. By now most of you will have worked out that Geordie is a constant cause of distress to me, and while I love the scruffy sod he gets on my nerves so badly sometimes I could cry. Here’s how it went down.

‘Should we go for a walk around the village, get a bit of fresh air?’

‘Yeah okay then I’ll stick the iron on to sort some clothes

‘Why what’s wrong with what I’m wearing?’

You can probably guess which side of the conversation belong to whom? During this exchange Geordie was sporting a pair of Adidas navy blue track suit bottoms, with marks on, a long sleeve blue training top with a white marathon finishers t-shirt over the top, also with visible marks on it. Plus he wore the same clothes the day before (hence the marks). While we were conversing I started ironing a plain white t-shirt for him and silently bullied him into finding a clean pair of jeans. I pulled out a blue shirt and began to iron the collar when I stupidly asked ‘What’s up with you?’ to which I got a very terse reply resulting in me chucking the shirt at him and cracking on with my Lego building in the next room.

It’s so frustrating, why go out dressed like a retired P.E teacher when you have three, yes 3 wardrobes full of clothes that are perfectly clean, well-fitting and on trend? Arghhh I’m actually getting annoyed again writing this! Twenty minutes later he saunters out of the bedroom wearing jeans and the t-shirt, clearly ironing the rest of the blue shirt was a step too far and would seem like I had won that particular battle. Okay so he’s spent the last 10 years in the military being told what to wear and how to wear it, so what difference does it make if I give the orders? Oh dear that doesn’t sound like a recipe for a long and happy marriage does it? Just call me the domestic chief of staff.

If Geordie had no decent clothes (which lets face it would never happen) it wouldn’t bother me so much, but I’ve bought him shed loads over the years and its a constant battle to get him to take some pride in his appearance and to give a crap about how I feel walking down the street with the northern version of Worzel Gummage!

We’re off to a farmers market this morning, I’m genuinely worried someone might try to buy him to frighten off the crows!

 

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Two to Tango

Geordie is away at the moment, with his job he tends to go away once a month for a few days or a week, I’m used to it now. He went away for 5 months not long after we started dating, it was like the end of the world for me. I didn’t eat for three days and couldn’t sleep. Without the support of my friend Danielle I’d have ended our relationship because the stress was too much to bear. Now I know it takes separations like this for you to notice the little things that make you a couple.

When I get up in the morning the first thing I do is tip the shower head down again, as Geordie is taller than me we have it at different angles to shower. I swiftly move on to put the toothpaste back in the cup on the window sill, I’m still not entirely sure why he can’t do this but sure enough day after day the Colgate lays half squeezed on the sink while his toothbrush nestles in the safety of the cup. Once I’ve hung his wet towel over the banister correctly I.e. so it will actually dry, I put his laundry in the basket, as opposed to on the floor next to the basket where he leaves it and go get dressed.

Toothpaste

Toothpaste (Photo credit: Fuzzy Gerdes)

Once downstairs I wash his breakfast dishes and wipe down the counter where he has spilled every substance he’s come into contact with that morning, butter, milk and tea usually. I make my own breakfast and clean up. In the living room I collect the empty lemonade bottle and glass that he’s left. The discarded crisp packet and biscuit wrapper go in the bin too. I fluff the cushions, have a quick hoover around and switch on the TV so the little one can watch cartoons while I catch up online.

As a couple this is the start of the dance routine of life, he sets the pace and I quick step around his handiwork to make sure we don’t live in a landfill. Occasionally I will moan about his lack of effort to help around the house and he will blame it on being a man and not being able to multi-task. Brushing your teeth and putting the toothpaste back? Come on…..he’s just a bloke.

It’s at times like these, when he’s away that I realise that it’s not really inconvenience, it’s just how we are. I miss the smell of his deodorant when he gets ready for work. The ear-splitting sound of the ironing board being opened at stupid o’clock in the morning when he forgot to iron a shirt the night before. I even miss putting his work boots away because if I don’t the dog will have a whale of a time chewing hell out of his laces and I then have to put up with Geordie f-ing and blinding about the whole thing.

It’s surprisingly easy to do the dance of love, even with two left feet.

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