Yes, I do iron, almost every day in fact. I iron what I am going to wear, what both my kids are going to wear, and, occasionally what my husband is going to wear, although he usually does his own ironing. I know that if I waited with bated breath by the dryer door for the load to dry, grabbed it out immediately, and folded it right away, my daily ironing ritual could possible be avoided. However, as you my recall, I have been truly laundry challenged and that it wasn't until last week that, thanks to my husband, we now have a tenuous hold on the situation. Therefore, it is safe to conclude that the waiting by the dryer with bated breath thing is never going to happen. Most of the time I am o.k. with this. Ironing is not my favorite of things to do, but it's not my least favorite either. Plus, I really like that we all look nice when we face the world for a new day. I do not, however, enjoy it when my iron turns on me, as it did this morning. The kids clothes were ready, and it was time to quickly iron mine and get everyone out the door for day camp and the office. My iron had other ideas. It decided to deposit lovely black steaks on my lovely clean white shirt. Yipee. 'Cause what I really want to do when ironing is dirty something that was clean, thus causing more laundry, and, of course, having to come up with another outfit after struggling to pull together the first one is a laugh riot. I can honestly say that nothing makes me happier than the unexpected iron streak on clean clothes. Nothing.