And This Is Why I Don’t Iron

Becky pulled the ironing board from its hiding place beside the washing machine. Behind it was something black. She leaned in closer. And saw that the black was furry.


Like the sheetrock was a sandwich left in a lunch box over the Summer.


If you’re ever in this situation yourself, I highly recommend the folks at ServPro. These guys came to my house on a Saturday. They were early. They explained to my wife that no, she would not die, and then they went to work.

They removed a large section of our utility closet, which is in our kitchen, and sealed off the area with great sheets of clear plastic and told us not to worry.

There are guys in plastic suits coming out to the house every day to “take moisture readings” with things that look like geiger counters. They carry clipboards and scribble numbers on pieces of paper. There may in fact be an alien lying in a large glass coffin beside my pantry.


Wood floors wil be torn up. A roofer is coming out later today to figure out for sure where the water came from. If it can’t be determined then insurance won’t cover it and I’ll be launching a second blog tour for Third World Symphony. Or just moving to the third world. I haven’t worked out those details just yet. But I’ll keep you posted as things progress.

And I’m heading out of town later today, to a college in Mississipi, a gathering of college presidents in Washington DC, and a couple of Newsboys dates in Texas. I will feel guilty all week about leaving my family, my wife, to deal with all this mess alone. And the self-condemnation will most likely compel me to eat chocolate until I get to Texas, at which point I will switch to fajitas and liberal quantities of queso.

I will return home to find the mold and the multiple problems it spawned and the contractors it required completely gone. And I will realize my wife doesn’t actually need me around. And since access to the pantry will be restored at that point, I will open it, find the kid’s Halloween candy and eat all the Reese’s Peanut Butter Cups.

And this is why I don’t iron.