the ironing board goes in the kitchen

You know how it is with a new house, you fiddle and fuss, nothing seems automatic. For example, the ironing set up. Now I never actually thought that I'd once again become someone who irons, but in my middle age, I have. I think it's because my work clothes are all a bit on the scruffy side at the moment (wardrobe crisis approaching like a freight train on speed) and I have this delusion that ironing them makes them less so. Something along the at least her clothes are clean, mended and pressed lines. Which I suppose given the global economic crisis, I could probably translate into a virtue. Except that I have a secure job. In a growth area during times of recession. Which my customers, the unemployed (and often better dressed), remind me about fairly frequently. Weird that.


Anyway, the ironing system. Clothes to be ironed are hung on the rail that goes across the door into the laundry and logic would have it that I would keep the ironing board and iron in the laundry and iron in the (so called) sunroom. Using the rail to hang my freshly pressed clothes on. Like I used to in the old house. But the sunroom here is really very small and poky. The power point is inconvenient and there is no overhead light. G has fixed a lamp behind the fridge, but it's more of a don't trip light than task lighting. So, when I started sewing again, I tried ironing in the kitchen, or in front of my computer desk  which was very squashy but next to my sewing table. I could go either way when sewing but the kitchen has started winning for the weekly iron. I can leave clothes on the back of chairs. There is water and a power point. And light. So now the iron and ironing board just live there all the time now. Catching the morning light and the sense of ease that makes me feel at home.