A little history....
I am, shall we say, less than graceful. It's a fact I've learned to live with. I'm never going to be a ballerina, or be able to walk thru a room without bruising myself somehow. Household chores have become potential hazards. I am currently sporting a really nasty burn, which I got ironing. One time, my husband had to come home from work because I took a piece of my thumb when I was grating cheese. Oh, and, blood makes me pass out. I'd say, oh, about three or four times a year, he comes home halfway thru the day because I called with some sort of injury severe enough to warrent either a trip to the dr, or something severe enough to put me on the couch for the rest of the day.
So, my point. Since it's a holiday weekend, and we have plans all weekend, and it's the last Friday before school starts, I figured we'd take the girls out tonight. So I call J at work, to find out what he time is looking at. He says he's working on wrapping up.
I, generous to a fault, offer to go up and iron his shirts, practically guaranteeing injury! And severe enough to send him home early for the long weekend!
What he said was something to the effect of " blah blah blah something about burns blah blah blah"
What I heard, "Don't iron my shirts."
YES!!!
Happy Labor Day!