Roberta tells a nightmarish ironing story over at her blog.
In the bad old days when he used to have to show up to places uncreased, Grumpy would do all his own ironing. Then he discovered that the drycleaner he sent his work duds to also washed and ironed shirts for a bargain basement price.
When he got the first lot back I asked him what the ironing was like. "Well, it's not as bad as yours."
[But you should see the state of his shoes!]
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