Mr. Sunshine is rolling around and feeling groovy while Mimi looks at the world from a new perspective. What we humans, especially female humans, see as the ultimate object of drudgery, even household slavery, our cats find to be a source of entertainment and even joy.
I admit, I did warm it up nicely for them, and it has a nice soft pad on it, plus it’s elevated, and as a bonus I was using it and would not let them on it, all criteria for any cat to absolutely need to be up there. Underneath that nice clean muslin cover is a reflective Teflon cover, so it’s like a heated cat shelf. Like some nice fresh black cat hairs with your freshly-ironed tee or tablecloth? They come free with every order unless I go after them. The ironing board cover gets rolled for cat hair more often than any of my garments.
When I screen print or block print a product, the ink needs to be set with heat once it’s dry to make it completely washable. This can be done in the dryer, but then said item is rumpled and looks used, not something you’d want to buy that’s considered new, so it needs to be completely ironed. It can also be set just by ironing for a period of time, and this is what I usually choose to do. But I often end up ironing and entire thing anyway—t-shirts come packed so tightly in the box they practically pop out when I open it, and are sometimes so wrinkled I have to iron them to print. Tablecloths and placemats and other fabric items are made from fabric which I prewash so it needs to be ironed in that case, then often I hem or trim it so that also needs to be ironed. Iron, iron, iron, they don’t tell you you’ll be doing housework when you say you want to be an artist. Good thing I enjoy it; I can sing to my cats or watch a good movie on my computer and the ironing time flies.
And because the ironing board is a little tippy and I know as soon as I leave the room that two or three cats will immediately launch themselves onto it, I actually set it up so it is braced and is very difficult to knock over. The iron is unplugged and placed in a safe spot on the floor.
I can keep these guys from jumping on it while I’m working, and I’ve kept most cats from doing so, but Cookie would have none of that. Unless I ironed outside she would find a way to get onto the ironing board—she couldn’t ever jump that high, even as a kitten—even if it meant she had to start in another room and step up and up and up from one thing to another and eventually get up there, prance around and wave her tail and purr, very pleased with herself and happy to have my attention. From last June, I Will Never Get To Retire.
Mamá, they all say, you are incapable of doing all this without our supervision! I should be glad for it, I guess.