Ironing
These pants I’m wearing are hand me downs from my ex-piano teacher’s ex-wife. The cuffs pile up around my ankles, because she’s taller than I am, but she didn’t want these pants to go to waste. I remember going to John’s house for my piano lesson, a small house in a new development. I would walk through the living room, and there was his wife Karen, ironing. She ironed everything: not just shirts, like I might, but jeans, sheets, underwear….