Surprisingly, the scintillating topic of laundry rarely comes up in casual conversation anymore (did it ever?) and yet, these days my laundry and the drying thereof gives me great joy. I am a simple woman who is loving the fresh scent of sheets and towels dried on our new clothes line.
My grandmother had very specific rules regarding the correct hanging of laundry. I can hear her in my head as I pin the clothes to the line. Pants upside down, shirts upside down, socks toe to top and underwear? It goes sideways. The clothes are never to be hung in the manner they are worn. Towels are hung largest to smallest, like types together.
Our next door neighbour, when I was growing up, had laundry on her line seemingly every day of the year and the audacity to hang it incorrectly (read rudely). It drove my wee Scottish Gran crazy… She never got angry at anyone, ever, but for the neighbour lady, Grandma had disdain.
It is finally summer here. 28 degrees with a gentle breeze. Too hot for the dog, he is passed out under the chair. I had the oven on this morning baking for my son’s arrival tomorrow.
The Yelp review of the bunkie from our eldest in February mentioned needing somewhere to put clothes and some way to darken the room past sunrise. So we added a small dresser and black venetian blinds. The hot water in the shower passed inspection.
The bunkie Yelp review from our daughter last week was very positive but suggested that the second hand futon cushion on the bed was okay for a night or two but for their two week stay a better mattress would have been nice. So we bought a boxed foam mattress on Amazon which came in the mail to our sister’s house and is now ready for our son’s evaluation. If he approves of it, we will get another one for the second bedroom. They are cheap. Daughter also requested a bathroom towel bar… It has been added to the list.
When I hang my laundry or clean the kitchen as I bake, I hear my Grandma. Every time I see a beautiful sunset or inadvertently use lie instead of lay in a sentence, I think of my Mom. What, I wonder, will remind my
children of me?