I Hate This! Blog

Ladies and Gentleman, you seem like nice people. As you are on this website I know that you too have a healthy amount of hate pumping through your veins. This is a good thing, trust this feeling. Nonetheless, I’m afraid I cannot bring myself to describe the complete and utter revulsion I have for ironing. Words are really not enough. Picture the most offensive piece of graffiti you have ever looked at, or the most upsetting film scene you have ever watched. This is how I feel about ironing; it is not natural and should have no part in our daily lives. Really, I mean it. Enough said.
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Two days later I remember what I have done. Damn. Like opening some deep space airlock I gingerly release the door latch and do my best to catch the overspill of socks, towels, and things that I do not remember putting in there in the first place. Naturally I do not own anything as sophisticated as a laundry basket and so, after about ten trips, I have successfully transported the entire load to the kitchen where it is time to face my ultimate nemesis: the clothes hanger. This is a white, plastic, device from the Devil himself. The basic idea is that the hanger is unfolded to form a three tier, free standing frame, upon which the damp items can be placed until such time that they are completely fresh and dry. Sounds simple enough, I know, but sadly it appears that I have some kind of genetic inability to correctly use this piece of equipment.
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