What
I am about to say usually elicits gasps of disbelief whenever I mention it, but
I swear it is the truth…I never owned a clothes dryer until 2010.
I
always loved the smell of laundry dried out in the fresh air, especially
bedding, so for over 35 years I used one of those spiffy umbrella-type aluminum
clotheslines. When my husband first set it up in our yard, he made sure it
would last forever. He dug a deep hole, stuck the pole into it and then filled
it with enough concrete to pave a parking lot.
Unfortunately,
a tree landed on the clothesline shortly thereafter and bent the umbrella part
into what looked like a lopsided, abstract aluminum sculpture. But the pole
still was solidly stuck in the ground (and probably will remain that way until
New Hampshire is hit by an earthquake strong enough to dislodge it from its
foundation).
Over
the years, I hung many loads of laundry on my bent, broken clothesline. I
learned to hang the long items (sheets, nightgowns, etc.) on the high side, and
the short items (socks, washcloths, etc.) on the low side. I also had to walk
around the clothesline when hanging things because the top of it was too
disfigured to turn.
I think not owning a clothes dryer for so
many years was hereditary. My mother never owned one and never wanted one. In
fact, she, being somewhat of a clothes-drying expert, taught me everything I
currently know about hanging clothes outside. First and foremost, she taught me
that it’s very important to hang sheets or towels in front of any “unmentionables”
to conceal them and avoid attracting unsavory characters.
Although
I always strictly followed that rule, the strategic placement of my
unmentionables on the line actually never was a big concern of mine. I mean, my
underwear was so big, I figured the only unsavory character it might attract
would be someone like a pirate looking for a new sail for his ship.
My
mother also taught me that hanging wet clothes outside in below-freezing
temperatures resulted in a condition known as “clothes-sicles,” where clothes
quickly froze into solid sheets of ice and could stand up by themselves. The
worst thing about clothes-sicles was that when you brought them indoors to
thaw, they usually were just as wet as when you first hung them out…only much
colder.
But
the most important rule my mother taught me about hanging laundry outdoors was
to vigorously shake all of the clothes before bringing them back inside. Anyone
who’s ever found a wasp in her bra will not question this rule.
I
learned the hard way that clothes will not dry outdoors when the humidity is
high and the breeze is low. I once left a load of laundry hanging outside for
so long during a humid spell, hoping it eventually would dry, it grew mold and
made everything look tie-dyed.
When
my husband complained, I reminded him that nothing beat the fresh-air smell of
clothes dried outdoors. “Try to get THAT from a clothes dryer!” I told him.
Unfortunately,
the people who moved in next door to us all but ruined that defense. They
decided to set up their barbecue grill about 20 feet from my clothesline. I
swear, they must have cooked three meals a day on that grill, which smoked
worse than a pile of burning tires.
As
luck would have it, the wind never failed to carry their barbecue smoke
directly toward my laundry, where it permeated every fiber. My husband and I
ended up smelling as if we’d bought all of our clothes at a fire sale…with a
hint of garlic and oregano thrown in.
“Why
am I suddenly craving spare ribs?” I asked as I slipped into my freshly dried
nightgown one night.
Alas,
one of the casualties of one particularly bad winter’s heavy snowfall was my
beloved clothesline. It ended up in such bad shape, with the pole nearly bent
in half, I couldn’t even hang a pair of socks on it.
“So
what do I do now?” I asked my husband one night as I stood holding a laundry
basket heaped with wet clothes.
He
looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “Well, I can’t put up a new
clothesline until the ground thaws in the spring, but I guess I always could
string up a clothesline indoors for you – from one bathroom wall to the other.
In fact, I could put it right over the bathtub, so you won’t have to worry if
the clothes drip.”
I
frowned at him. “Yeah, and then we can buy a couple live chickens and a goat,
and let them run around the house, too, to complete the look!”
It
got to the point where, especially in the winter, I had laundry drying over the
shower rod and on so many folding racks near furnace grates, my husband finally
insisted we buy a dryer.
“I
think I’m getting diaper rash,” he complained one night after he’d been forced
to wear a pair of damp black dress-slacks and soggy BVDs that hadn’t quite
dried in time for his big meeting at work that day. “It’s time to get a
dryer."
So
I reluctantly gave in and finally bought one…under protest.
I
must confess the dryer has made my life much easier, but I do miss the “fresh
air" smell of my bed sheets. And now that I’m not using solar energy to
dry the clothes, the electric bill has gone up.
However,
I can’t say that I miss finding June bugs my jeans.
# # #
Sally Breslin is an award-winning humor columnist and the author of
“There’s a Tick in my Underwear!” “Heed the Predictor” and “The Common-Sense
Approach to Dream Interpretation." Contact her at: sillysally@att.net.
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