Even though my family had one when I was a little girl, I took it for granted. And for the past 10 years or so, I’ve wanted one of my own. And finally, my wishing and hoping have paid off.
This past weekend,
I got my very own . . . clothesline!
The dryer stopped working on Thursday, the repairman couldn’t come until Monday, so we were forced to string up a make-do clothesline in the corner of the yard next to the Azalea bush. I scrounged around the house and found a few clothespins – some on bags of half-eaten chips, some holding the powdered sugar bag closed, but enough for a load of laundry.
It worked so well, now I want to make it permanent.
It didn’t hurt that the weather in Fairhope this past weekend was sunny, breezy and in the high 60’s. Of course, I reserve the right to revisit the idea of lugging wet laundry outside when the temps are in the low 100’s.
My son took a shower, and I waited.
Wait for it . . . wait for it . . .
“HEY! THESE TOWELS ARE SCRATCHY!”
There it was.
Other than that, the clothes smelled so good, and it was actually a soothing ritual hanging them out, then taking them in. Forced slowness. A nice, sunny break from the confines of the dungeon of a laundry room.
Who needs a loud automatic clothes dryer anyway? I’m going to be eco-friendly and retro-chic. I may even wear an apron.
I just heard twenty previous generations of women in my family turning over in their graves. Hey, it’s not like I’m churning butter or anything!
Happy laundry day to you too.