Ironing Out The Wrinkles

I have this problem.  It is my ironing board.  It just stares at me smuggly from the center of my laundry room because I am forced to work around its bulking, gloating presence.  I got this ironing board back 11 years ago.  Since I had never ironed in my previous 20 years, not sure why I thought I might start in the next 20.  I suppose young love does that to a person. I envisioned lovingly ironing out my husbands shirts.  That vision faded and the ironing board sat unused for many, many years.  We moved.  5 times.  Along it came.  Lugged to each new place, then promptly tucked it behind some door.  Then last winter I decided to make wax paper hearts with melted crayons and the old forgotten ironing board got pulled out to shine in all its useful glory.  When I attempted to fold it back up, it wouldn't go.  I tried all the usual pounding, hammering, and banging but it would not colapse back down.  So now it sits there taking up half my laundry room filling the room with its arrogance.  Mocking me that it will not be cast aside again.  I have considered just throwing it away but the thing is so big it won't fit in our garbage.  Maybe some night I will have some wine, take it out to the country....okay farther out to the country than I already am....and drop it off.  If it is lucky, a passerby may take pity on it and bring it in.