The Futility of Ironing

It's like trying to tame a wild beast, but with more wrinkles.

In a world full of smooth surfaces and wrinkle-free dreams, ironing stands as a constant reminder of our existential futility.

Is it really worth the effort? The steam, the heat, the occasional burned shirt?

Perhaps it's just a futile attempt to impose order on a chaotic universe.

But hey, someone's gotta do it.

There's Always Tomorrow, When the Stains Come Back