My sister, Sadie, called me last night, and she was laughing, “Have you been to that website “Shit My Dad Says” yet?”
“No, not yet,” I told her.
“I can’t. I’m ironing my sheets. I’ll check it out when I’m done.”
She laughs harder, “You’re what? Did you say you were ironing your sheets?”
“Yeah, I like it when the sheets are all smooth,” and I’m feeling a little insecure about this. There’s no way that I’m the only person who’s ever ironed their sheets. None.
“Doesn’t Dog sleep in your bed?” And she’s still laughing.
I’m quiet for a minute, “Well, he likes a freshly made bed, too.”
“Holy crap, Paige. Just dim the lights. He’ll never know the difference.”
“Okay. Gotta go now.”
She was still laughing when I hung up.
Lily called a few minutes later.
“What’re you doing?” she asked.
“Ironing my sheets.”
“Oh.” Silence. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” and I tensed for laughter.
But she just said, “Our maid did that.”
“Yeah, well, my mom’s maid used to fold all her plastic market bags into little tiny squares, but, until I can afford a maid, I’ll be the one ironing the sheets. And I use the cloth bags.” I threw that last bit in for good measure. I’m nothing if not environmentally conscious.
Well, except for the extra electricity I’m using to iron my sheets.
I thought about this for a minute and decided I was still coming out ahead.