While ironing a shirt one day, it occured to me that the task was heart-stoppingly boring. Ironing isn’t just your average “high school algebra teacher” boring, but a piercing, resentful, lack of interest that shook me to my meager soul. Normally the television would console me, but on that particular day not even spraying innocent passerby with water could maintain my interest.

I was losing my passion for creating wrinkle free garments. As the days, weeks, and months passed by the iron lay undisturbed and cool to the touch.

Then I discovered extreme ironing. My life will never be the same.