A Steamy Relic of the Past

What you see here is the result of rational yet "heated" (zing!...you'll get in a second...) debate. Yesterday, I implored of Emily that we get an iron because I've recently gotten some shirts that require ironing. However, I foolishly advocated a trip to Target for this purpose. Alas, such a trip would cost much more than the benefits, no doubt, as Emily quickly instructed me. And so, in Emily's economical wisdom, I was counseled that we rather visit Goodwill to find the iron I desired.

It turns out that Emily's sagacious recommendation proved its worth the moment we entered Goodwill. The store had a smell that shouted "bargains!" I went straightaway to the appliances section and we were faced down by a plethora of irons. I was not prepared for irons in plethoric proportions and so we made another rational decision: each of us chose our favorite. I was immediately drawn to the beauty of the iron you see in the small picture above. It may be hard to see it from the picture but the nostalgic essence that permeated my being simply from glancing at this model of perfection was overwhelming. It beckoned a period when irons were irons, and washing boards were washing boards.

Moments later I was plugging it so that she (I use the pronoun "she" here because her name is Bertha), may prove to us that she could handle the ironing I so desperately longed for. What joy when the element was heated and we felt the warmth of an iron that had doubtless made passes at numberless concourses of fabrics. I made my exultation known to Emily through beaming eyes and smile. She acquiesced to its purchase. And that is how we came to own "Bertha."