I bought a shirt that is impossible to iron. I love it, but I’m going to have to be careful with it. It’s a navy blue cotton button down (sort of a camp shirt, but not exactly) from Ann Taylor, and I love how it fits. I asked John to iron it before I left on Sunday ’cause I ran out of time and I wanted to travel in it. He brought it back, mostly unwrinkled, and asked me to never ever ask him to iron that shirt again. It was a pain in the ass. And he’s a good ironer. So tonight, I was ironing a different shirt (one that was easy to iron, thank goodness), and I figured I’d try to get the wrinkles out of the navy blue one again in case I want to wear it on my flight home on Friday. Impossible! I totally understand why John never wants to iron it again. I don’t want to either. Can’t get the wrinkles out. Poor shirt. And the iron in my hotel room SUCKS. Leaks water everywhere, so I ended up half soaking the shirt in the process.