Those Pesky Wrinkles

I noticed, after extracting my clothes from the back of an overcrowded closet, that my go-to outfit for weddings and funerals was hopelessly wrinkled. And I needed it…now.

Ugh! I should have known…

I’d misjudged the time and there wasn’t a minute to spare… no time to drag out the iron and ironing board, so I dashed down to the laundry room and grabbed my newly purchased wrinkle releasing spray and went to work, praying it worked as advertised.

I decided to save time and change in the bathroom instead of running back upstairs.

Jim was ready and waiting for me and he was beginning to pace the floor. He liked to be early for everything, and normally, so did I, but today, time had simply gotten away from me.

I spritzed and sprayed and it wasn’t long before those longstanding creases began to relax.

Unlike myself. Or Jimbo.

We were running late, and I was to blame. This latest ‘wrinkle’ would make us even later. We would have just enough time to drive to the venue and sneak into the back of the church before the ceremony began.

I knew I would not relax until we arrived safely at our destination. Neither would Jim.

I changed quickly, slapped on a little lipstick, called it good, and headed for the door.

Jim was waiting in the car… a sure sign that his patience was spent.

We drove in silence.

It was better that way…

By the end of the evening, though, we were back on speaking terms. The ride home was much more pleasant with both of us laughing and sharing the details of our evening.

I’d hurt my back more than a year earlier and cleaning was difficult. Things like floor care and scrubbing shower walls were especially hard, and my back protested with fits of muscle spasms and sciatica for days afterward.

Jim didn’t like to clean, and with his full-time job and forty-five minute one-way commute, he really didn’t have the time, so we reworked the budget and hired Lori, a woman who came in and cleaned twice a month.

Lori arrived promptly at 9:00 that Monday morning and quickly started to clean. She dusted, vacuumed, swept and mopped, and saved the bathroom for last. Just how I used to clean… only better.

Soon, she came into the kitchen, trying unsuccessfully to keep from laughing.

“I found this in the shower,” she said with a grin as she whipped the bottle of wrinkle releaser from behind her back.

“I hate to tell you, but THIS is for wrinkles in your clothes… not your skin!”

In my haste, I’d set the bottle of wrinkle releaser on the edge of the tub, and it had soon become lost amid the other bottles in the shower: the shampoo, conditioner and body wash.

Then Lori arrived and happily sorted out the wrinkles of my life. She found a place for everything and put everything in its place.

Nice.