Tomorrow, at half past one post meridiem (told by sun dial), my public execution shall commence. Ok, so it probably won't be that horrible, but I do have an interview for a supervisor position: an interview which has a nasty reputation for being extraordinarily tough. To make matters worse, dorm rooms at college are sufficient, but small and unable to hold everything but the kitchen sink... or in my case the ironing board.

Earlier I discovered that, in its dormancy, my dress shirt had become dismally wrinkled, and it desperately needed to be ironed before my interview. Now ironing isn't really a big deal at home. But I soon realized that neither an ironing board nor water are indigenous to my dorm room, and both were seemingly necessary for use with my borrowed iron.

With a little effort, a little ingenuity, and a little luck, my shirt and I escaped unscathed and less wrinkled from our ironing experience. After that, I've resigned myself to hoping that my suit didn't acquire holes in my closet, to hoping that I can find matching socks, and to hoping that it doesn't rain on my walk to the interview.