Ironing has a funny side too

A friend's comment on the last post (about ironing) reminded me of this story which I had to share to show that while ironing suddenly has this profound, serious side, it also has a funny side.

My 4th year of college I lived in the sorority house on the 3rd floor in a room that was called the Attic Double until we moved in, at which time it immediately became the Princess Room. I'm not completely sure as to whether or not the girls in the house today still call it the Princess Room, but if they do not, I will be sorely disappointed. Anyway, there were two single beds in the room, and both were on risers, so it became quite a challenge to see what was going on on the opposite side of the bed across from you. My desk faced a wall and...I really can't describe this well enough, so I provide you with Exhibit A......which I now realize you cannot read because it is too small. Maybe if you click on it. I don't know. Anyway, the brown circle is me (aerial view, I have brown hair), the two smaller rectangles are our desks, and the two larger rectangles are our beds. The arrow pointing to the second bed represents Austin, who was under the bed at the time this story took place.

So, I had recently murdered Austin and hidden her body underneath the bed...

jk.

But did I have you going? Probably not.

So I'm sitting at my desk, studying very very hard (aka stalking people on facebook while wearing absurdly large clown sunglasses and/or cat ears), when I hear a noise coming from behind me. I'm pretty sure that I had thought I was alone in the room up until this point. So I hear this noise, and I turn and look over my shoulder, convinced that Elizabeth was finally right, and the Phantom has in fact come into the sorority house to murder me, and I see no one behind me in the room. The noise happens again, and finally I say:

"...Austin?"

and this muffled reply issues from across the room,

"...yes?"

"...ummm...where ARE you?"

"...under my bed," she replied...as if this were completely normal.

"Annnnnd, what are you doing under your bed?"

this answer, and the way it was delivered, will always stay with me:

"Ironing."

Classic.