In today’s Drudgework Monday we’ll do a lot of ironing, review some movies, and muse about civilization.

Twenty-two point eight five gigs– that’s how much ironing I did this weekend. I do not mind ironing. I have to be in the right mood, and the weather has to cooperate, but given those, it’s not a chore I abhor. So it was Saturday afternoon that I set up the ironing board close to the television set in the living room, collected the distilled water & water cup, starch, spray bottle of vinegar, and commenced ironing.

But first! Find a movie. Rocky & I both like a good old fashioned detective story, so we began with J.B. Priestly’s An Inspector Calls, a movie based on (according to that infallible source) “one of the classics of mid-20th century English theatre.” I knew neither the author, play (1945), nor movie (BBC, 2015). It is a fine example of “drawing room theatre” and quite engaging, though in the end, I did not care for its overarching theme.

How many Fall and Christmas tablecloths, runners, placements, and napkins does one really need? Half-a-trunk-full, of course! (The white cloth on the top is parked temporarily.) Each and everyone of them give me great joy! Several belonged to my mom and thus are showing a little wear, but, you know, JOY!

Next up was John Wayne & Sophia Loren in Legend of the Lost (1957). There were several John Wayne movies from which to choose among those Alexa suggested, but I’d seen all but this one many times before. To say that this is not among the better Wayne movies is to be supremely charitable. But, you know, Wayne & Loren. I did love that the sanctimonious PoS, Paul, gets shot in the end. And I’ll note that the synopsis at that infallible source is woefully inadequate with respect to the underlying collective vs. individual theme.

Moving on to embroidered pillow cases (top right, and bottom)… . These take some work, and a fair amount of starch, but it’s worth it– to me. I have quite a number. Some are from Aunt Margaret, some from Mr. Big Food’s grandmothers– so nearly 100 years old. One thing I really like about them, from an ironing point of view, is that the grain of the fabric runs true. No twisted seams. It was about here, though, that I wondered how many among the scores who have slept in the front guest room appreciate the hand embroidered pillowcases adorning the century plus old poster bed? I actually contemplated this. I’d guess more than half of the folks appreciate them in the abstract– very pretty! But take a closer look at the white ones. Scalloped edges. Cutouts. That’s some serious work right there. Probably a lot of time spent listening to the radio or chatting with family. Lost arts & all.

Support Your Local Gunfighter (1971) was a hoot. Who doesn’t like James Garner? And the uncredited appearance of Chuck Connors– The Rifleman!— was just awesome. Plus Bob Newhart’s wife.

Napkins. Those who have converted their dining rooms into offices or playrooms have no use for crisply starched and ironed dinner napkins, and, IMHO, are missing out on one of the real joys in life– a beautifully laid dining table welcoming family and friends to a pleasant meal and lively conversation. See the ones at the bottom right? There’s a matching tablecloth– a royal pain to iron on account of the lace work. But you should see what the table looks like all decked out! Worth every minute.

Which brings us to Sunday and Atlas Shrugged, Parts I (2011), II (2012), and III (2014). Wretched. Wretcheder. Wretchedest. The first one wasn’t too bad, except for the acting, the variable volume, and the fact that the actress playing Dangy is 20 years younger than the actors playing the lead male roles. The second used a completely different set of actors. Third, another. It was just beyond stupid. The little girl playing Dagny looks like a little girl. No way Galt’s Gaulch is a hippy commune. The guy playing Danneskjöld is about as Scandinavian looking as John Wayne. The three old school chums, John, Francisco, and Danneskjöld, are played by actors separated in age by 20 years– Francisco is played by a guy older than I! Not believable at all. Poor messaging, too.

Other cloths. Tatting. Embroidery. Cross stitch. I was ironing one runner and reflected on how the hand-crocheted lace boarder had been attached to the cloth. Blanket stitch, if I’m not mistaken.

What to make of folks who don’t spend a day or two ironing their linens and such a couple of times a year? Who take no joy in either the ownership or the care of a beautiful napkin? Who are unknowing of the magic of spray starch?

Shiny things.