I mentioned in an earlier post how my ironing board languished, unwrapped, for about a year. I hate ironing. Not only that, and this may sound silly, but I’m no good at it. I think ironing, like sewing, is learned behavior, and my mom never taught me how to do it. She just told me to go iron my shirt/pants/skirt/et cetera, so down I went into the basement, and plunked the iron around on whatever was wrinkled. I never got nice, neat seams on my pants, or points on my collars, and I tended to iron in as many wrinkles as I got out.
These fabric pieces, though, have no complicated sleeves, ruffles, pleats or even seams, so I’m doing alright for the most part. Still, I see all this advice about how I need to set the iron down, press firmly but briefly, and then pick it up and set it down again, lest I forever stretch the fabric out of shape.
This makes almost no sense to me – It’s cotton. How does ironing it irretrievably alter a fat quarter, if it doesn’t do so to a shirt made out of the same material?
These and many other mysteries confound me.
A small pile of fabric awaits my kind attention tonight when I get home, having been pre-washed, which has left it in a state of complete chaos – wrinkles and gnarled threads all over the place. I see now this may be solved by placing the fabric into a pillow case before washing. We’ll see, next time.
Incidentally, I haven’t touched the sewing machine since I got it last Saturday, because I haven’t had the time. I haven’t even been playing my ridiculously addictive online space game much at all. However, buying a new house keeps one busy, especially when one has a large yard. Also, I think I’m subconsciously avoiding another frontal assault on the placemats, lest my second attempt be even worse than my first.
We’ll see what the weekend brings.
Later: Yeah, about that whole “press, don’t iron” thing? I lasted all of about 5 minutes. Probably less. It takes forever, and isn’t nearly as effective as ironing. The fabric didn’t look hideously (or even marginally) stretched, so for now, until something goes utterly sideways, I’m fricking ironing.