My iron was abducted ... I mean borrowed almost TWO WEEKS ago. I was on the phone getting some juicy details about wedding shower presents ... so I didn't pay very much attention to what the person was saying about where she lived and how long she wanted to borrow it. Basically all I could make out between talking about fuzzy handcuffs and lingerie were the words "borrow" and "iron".
I (wrongly, as it turns out) assumed it wouldn't be a big deal. It was an iron, after all ... who wants to keep an iron? I thought to myself, "Why not try to be neighborly. 'Can I borrow a cup of sugar' and all that. It's not like you use your iron everyday." And so I loaned it out. Fully expecting to get it back within a day or two.
Two weeks later, amigos, the deadline on neighborliness has expired. I've gone through all of my knitwear, and I need my iron back.
You know the saying, Desperate Times call for Desperate Measures, or in this case Wrinkled Times call for Subtle Hints in the Form of a Clever Missing Person Flyer. My neighbors all recieved a copy of this flyer under their door tonight.
I could have been more scathing in it - but I didn't want to scare off the non-iron-stealers in the building. I still have to ride the elevator with these people. I'll save my ire for the guilty party. To that end I'm in my apartment right now practicing my "stern and disappointed expression" in the mirror while I deliver a particularly fierce version of the Neither a Borrower Nor a Lender Be speech. I have to say, I look like a total badass. Albeit a pretty wrinkly badass.