Maybe What Changed Was Me

Why ironing taught me something unexpected about growing older

Photo by Dee Dee on Unsplash

She looked so neat and nimble, oh
A-hanging out her linen, oh
Dashing away with the smoothing iron-John Langstaff

I can picture it now. Readers looking at the subtitle and thinking, “Ironing? This week’s subject is about ironing? She has really lost the plot!”

I get it.

Honestly, trying to convey my thoughts here is going to be challenging. I am not even sure exactly what I want to say. But let me try.

I have found that, at this stage of my life, I actually enjoy ironing...which has NEVER been true before. I never had the time, and it felt like a burden during my career. The dry cleaner was my best friend.

I have often shared my love of crisp white shirts as part of my favorite look, no matter where I was working. Whether paired with the perfect Italian wool gabardine pants from J.Crew or the best dark-wash Levi’s, those shirts were everything. Did I have time in those days to iron? Absolutely not. Dry cleaning with light starch was my savior.

Now, I find that so many things in my life have changed as I get older. The iron-to-no-iron switch happened without me even noticing.

I still love those crisp white button-ups, but maybe not quite as “crispy” as in the old days. I recently started laundering them at home and decided to try ironing them myself. I found a product billed as a “clear starch and sizing alternative,” lavender scented, and fell in love with the results. No wrinkles, but more relaxed.

Kinda like me these days. (Well, the no wrinkles part may be true for my shirts…not so much for me!)

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By now, I am guessing you are still wondering what this topic has to do with aging and the typical Leaving Middle Age article.

The more I thought about it, the more I realized that maybe what changed wasn’t ironing.

Maybe what changed was me.

When I was younger, every hour had a job. There was always a deadline, a meeting, a project, a family obligation, or somewhere I needed to be. Ironing represented one more thing on a very long list. It wasn’t satisfying. It wasn’t relaxing. It was simply another task standing between me and everything else I needed to accomplish. So, I didn’t do it.

These days, I experience time differently. Not slower exactly, but less compressed.

I find myself appreciating activities that have a clear beginning and end. There is something deeply satisfying about taking a wrinkled shirt and making it ready to wear again. The results are immediate. The task is simple. The reward is tangible.

Sometimes my posts are simply observations about how life changes in middle age and beyond.

The other day, I found myself standing in my laundry room with a pile of freshly washed items. Button-ups, pillowcases, t-shirts, and the like. I zoned out and started ironing.

The view from the window was gorgeous. Everything outside was in bloom. The rhythmic process of ironing was almost hypnotic.

Weirdly, I felt calm and peaceful.

Does that sound strange?

Before I knew it, the pile was gone. Everything was ironed and put away. I had actually enjoyed the experience.

That would have NEVER happened in my younger days.

I would have been resentful of the time it took. I was always so very busy.

One week, I spent my hour-and-a-half Sunday phone call with my Dad ironing. The phone on speaker, me accomplishing a project while listening to his stories. Multi-tasking at its finest.

The view from my laundry room window in Spring

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Now that I think about it, maybe enjoying chores as we age is more common than we realize.

There is something comforting about tasks that ask very little of us beyond our attention. Ironing, folding laundry, watering plants, organizing a closet—none of these require strategy meetings or PowerPoint presentations. They simply require us to be present.

In a world that often feels chaotic, small acts of maintenance create a sense of order. They give us something we can control and shape with our own hands. They also offer something increasingly rare: a visible result. A basket of laundry becomes an organized closet. A wrinkled shirt becomes one you’re excited to wear.

Maybe that’s why these tasks can feel surprisingly peaceful. The repetitive motions quiet the mental chatter. For a little while, you’re not solving problems, managing schedules, or making decisions. You’re simply doing one thing and doing it well.

And maybe there is something else going on.

As we get older, we develop a deeper appreciation for the spaces we live in and the things we own. Taking care of them becomes less about obligation and more about creating comfort. The small acts of maintaining our homes become acts of caring for ourselves.

Now, don’t get me wrong. I am not suggesting I have suddenly become a domestic goddess. You will still have to pry my housekeeper away from my cold, dead hands.

But I have learned to appreciate certain tasks in a way I never expected.

Like ironing.

There is something creative about a clean, organized closet. Everything neat, lightly pressed, relaxed, and color-coordinated. Somehow it feels less like housework and more like creating a space that brings me peace.

And perhaps that’s another gift of aging.

We stop measuring every activity by its efficiency and start measuring some of them by the enjoyment they bring.

So, where are you in this journey of life?

Are there projects, chores, or tasks that you used to hate but have come to appreciate?

What changed?

The task—or you?

Peace + Clarity

Much love!

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