I never thought it would, but it happened to me
Well, I've done it. I have entered a world where women iron underwear. Not being one to care if my undergarments are wrinkly, I thought it would never happen to me.
Now, here in Italy, if left unchecked, ironing can take over one's life. I really don't remember ironing so much in Texas. Did I just walk around a wrinkly mess? Who knows. All I know is that keeping within the normal realm of ironing duties (pants and shirts, if one is lucky), is a rather hefty task.
The women here in the south, though, they go beyooooond the call, people. And when I say beyond I mean something. must. be. done. to. stop. them. The list of things to iron would include pretty much everything but food, tampons, and shampoo.
So, in the spirit of giving and helping out with what needs to be done, the list of things that I have ironed in my lifetime has expanded to include sheets, bath towels, hand towels, napkins, underwear, panties, undershirts (male and female), and pajamas. But socks?! I won't do it, I just won't.
This, however, is neither rant, nor complaint. It is just my inner modern American woman's fascination and disbelief of the existence of this strange Italian act. While I look upon this cultural habit as something-I-would-never-do-in-my-own-house-even-if-I-could-give-crisply-pressed-dishtowels-in-exchange-for-world-peace, it is just a small favor, and I am happy to oblige.