The iron is hot!
Let me tell ya a story. I was about to move. It was time to get the U-Haul, pack up and head to the new city. City? I was a small town boy. At twenty something, I had just learned to wash my own clothes. Ironing was important too, back then. We did not have the new materials that are guaranteed wrinkle-free. I went to do some errands on packing day, time spent with the fiancé. The day was just weeks away. We had much to do before I went to live two and half hours away. It was an eternity from each other. I got home to daddy. He was livid. He had taken time off, packed for hours and expected me. The truck was loaded. The sun was setting. We had a short stunted conversation; it seemed to take hours to get through it. He asked where I'd been, what I had done, why was I not there to help. I stumbled through giving reasons only to sound like excuses. He'd cut me off; I'd try again. I felt guilty; yes, guilty as cha...