At the request of Ty

I will no longer be ironing.

At least his shirts.

Well, maybe not all his shirts.

Why?

Because this has become our second closet. More often that not if he can't find what he's looking for in our main closet, he can look in the laundry room and always finds what he's looking for. (There are currently A LOT more shirts hanging in our laundry room than this photo shows.)

I just can't help not ironing even though it is the one housekeeping chore I detest the most.

I blame my mother for that. We always had a bajillion of Dad's shirts to iron every week, every one of them white.

Or maybe I should blame him for wearing so many shirts that needed ironing. But what's a seminary teacher to do.

Either way I can't stand to iron but I can't seem to give it up either. Baby steps, baby steps. So . . . Tyler's golf shirts are banished from the laundry room to find a permanent home in our master closet. I'm a little tense just thinking about it, EVEN THOUGH I KNOW no one will even be able to tell if they had been ironed or not.

This is going to be hard. But like I sometimes tell my kids, "Learys do hard things."

And a glimpse into laundry day at our house. No room for a nap that day.