Ironing out The Wrinkles   I’m an iron, a cold, heavy wedge of metal and plastic, sitting at one end of your ironing board, waiting to be picked up and put to work. My job is to iron out the wrinkles from your clothes so that you may take on the day dressed in your confident best. I work only when I’m heated. When my cord is plugged in, the little light in me glows. You wait patiently until the light stops glowing. Then you know that I’m ready for work. I love being glided over fabric, smoothening one crease at a time, from collar to cuff. I know how important wearing well-pressed clothes is. Children also need to wear well-ironed school uniforms. You just can’t show up in the world in creased and crumpled attire. I hear you mutter in exasperation when a stubborn crease refuses to give in or when you’re running late. I’ve seen you tackle school uniforms and hurriedly run me over clothes that don’t even need ironing, either. Am I dangerous? Yes, if you’re ca...

Today's Times of India carried a piece by journalist Jug Suraiya titled Unpaid COOs and here's a page from one such unpaid Coo's diary...read on.  As a regular homemaker, my day begins pretty early. The 'cheerful' buzz of the alarm awakens me to the sights and sounds of the day. it is 7am and ever so cold these days. I reluctantly drag myself out of bed. My youngest has already left for college at the unearthly hour of 5.45am.Being quite adept in the kitchen, he rustles up breakfast for himself. I have much to be thankful for.   I remind myself to practice my breathing exercises and then trudge to the kitchen. My 'ginger -infused' warm water is all ready for me to glug down. (Thanks to my significant other)While tea happily brews on the stove, my significant other is busy pottering around in the kitchen, preparing his starters as in a smoothie. Now that water and tea both have been drunk, it is time to get down to the business of takin...