If there’s one universal truth in Lisbon, it’s this: a few drops of rain are enough to make the will to face the iron evaporate faster than a puddle in Chiado in August. And yet, here you are, eyeing that pile of shirts that mysteriously grew during the week, while the weather forecast announces “light rain” — that Portuguese euphemism for “it’ll be gray and humid enough to convince you that ironing can wait.”
We are Ironi...