I love to iron. It's an important task, bringing order out of chaos. Each weekend, I iron the clothes for the coming week and feel prepared. It helps that my sweetie bought me a really good iron (yes, a Rowenta) so the task is fun and quickly effective.
Today I ironed to Zeppelin. Perfect. The tunes kept me going: crease, smooth, edge in to delicate detail, create the beauty that will be "this outfit."
Why Zeppelin? I dunno. The group's with me a lot. Years ago Saturdays would catch my daughter and me and our dogs heading out in the big ole pick-up to do important stuff, listening to Zeppelin. Seemed reasonable to drop off re-cycle stuff, to traverse the trail where the dogs would text their liquid messages, with Page and crew playing. Just seemed right.
My late husband learned (from the Canadian show "Red-Green") that he could "listen" safely to my rantings while humming Zeppelin's "Immigrant Song" to himself, and then reply with the mandatory "Yes, dear," at appropriate lulls in the song's roll. I know he did that a lot, though he denied it vehemently. I didn't mind. Creative and cool, really.
Zeppelin has incredible domestic usefulness, no denying it. But why? When I hear the good rock and roll from my youth, I'm transported. "Under My Thumb" can send me off the cliff. But the Stones or even the Beatles don't help me do housework. Curious. Why does Zeppelin?
I've heard an NPR piece on the rock and roll songs that lead drivers to tickets. "Radar Love" is notorious with law enforcement folks for luring drivers into pressing the accelerator harder, harder, harder, til, WHOA! too late. Busted. The same NPR piece noted that no one has ever received speeding tickets while listening to the Grateful Dead. A fan of "The 70s Show," I understand.
A pal of mine over-shared as he described his habitual dive into bed, a la natural, to the tune of "In a Godda Di Vita." Ruined the song for me, but I still wondered why that song consistently triggered this response. Why such habit? Why such repetition? Puzzling...
Zeppelin gets me going. I'm revved. It feels good and comfortable and definitely in the realm of "known." But there's something else. The order is right on Zeppelin CDs. Just when I'm about to hyperventilate after "Gallows Pole," (verified by the frenetic pounding I do on my conga or ironing board), "Tangerine" comes on to calm me. Okay, focus. Must iron. Must not burn collars. Must not press crease into floor. I'm back now.
I'm thinking that Zeppelin has some unique cosmic connection with domestic diva dieties. The band has helped me get my cave chores done for decades and I'll bet I'm not alone. Maybe the deal they made was this: "You do the tunes; we'll promise you perfectly pressed linen shirts through eternity." Whaddya think?