Behavioural Transfer

Carole’s gone to a wedding do this evening dressed as a Bay City Rollers fan.

Intentionally, that is – she’s not just overdone it on the tartan.

For the last week, little fragments of her outfit have been arriving at the house – some badges, a set of tartan braces and a iron on transfer for her t-shirt.

For the last few days, she’s asked me to remind her that she needs to do the transfer when she gets home from work. For the last few days she has not done the transfer when she got home from work.

Today, I discovered that the reason she hadn’t done it was because, secretly, she wanted me to do it. Because, obviously, I have much more experience in the art of ironing transfers onto the front of t-shirts, what with the large total of none that I have done in the past. In fact, all the knowledge I possess about how to deal with these things came from skim-reading a Wikihow page while lying in bed this morning. Because that’s the kind of cool kid I am.

That was also, incidentally, how I discovered that there is a Wikihow page on how to iron things. Which just blows my mind. Because ironing – just the straight forward process of removing creases from clothes – has never really struck me as something that really needs too much explanation.

But then, if ironing was that easy it wouldn’t form the backbone of every situation comedy which has needed a lone white shirt pressing for an occasion of dire importance.

The t-shirt transfer was also an eye-opener on the lack of patience that Carole has when it comes to waiting for things. My quick skim of the idiot’s guide to iron on tranfers stated that you should wait a few minutes before removing the paper from the transfer – failure to do so could lead to adherence disaster.

Carole is not born to wait.

“Can I peel it now?” she would ask, in much the same way as a child may repeatedly ask if they were there yet. At one point she proclaimed that the “neck of the guitar seems to have worked…” – a fact she would only know if she had sneakily peeled back the edge of the transfer to have a look and then put it back down before I noticed.

I know this because I had done it myself a minute or so earlier.

But don’t tell Carole that, otherwise I’ll have to get off the high horse I’m currently on…

 

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