Wow! I couldn't believe the size of my email inbox when I got home last night. All such wonderful comments, and a terrific discussion. I am trying to answer everyone, but whammo! Work is busy. Just finishing up the school year for CART, and already have depositions overlapping, as well as outside-UVM CART clients keeping me busy, and a few other things I'm trying to manage. So in the meantime, allow me to present to you my i for the ABC-Along.
I hate ironing and will do it only as a last resort. And yet somehow there is a collection of old irons in my house. Hint: Except in the legal marital estate sense, they're not "mine." Anyway, here is a sampling.
Were these people nuts? Coal-filled, kerosene-fired, heat-on-the-woodstove, dangerous heavy items of laborious drudgery. Why were more husbands not murdered via these lovely blunt instruments? Oh, I guess because without a husband to bring home the bacon, the women would be doomed to taking in people's IRONING to make a living. I'd sooner commit suicide by turning the kerosene-fired implement on myself. Are wrinkles really THAT bad? Humans are really weird creatures.
I'll admit this, though: They make fairly decent bookends flanking an antique set of horticulture encyclopedias, and they made a good excuse for buying an antique rustic jelly cupboard at an estate sale a few years ago in which to display them.
Apart from that, they're basically just dust-catchers. Maybe I'm being too harsh?