Random things I am thankful for: my clothesline

(NOTE:  Pete read this post and proclaimed it "over the top" -- and I completely agree.  I thought about changing it, but then decided it's true to how I feel, dramatic and all.  But, be warned that reading the following will likely be considered a waste of time.  Writing it, however, was fun for me.)

I have a bewildering obsession with my clothesline. Over the summer I had Pete install some hooks on trees for me, with the intention that I would save some money by not using the dryer. I figured the novelty would soon wear off, and my natural laziness would kick in, so I was glad that it was a small investment at least. The idea was just to use it on the hot summer days, and even if I only did it a few times, hey, that was a few dollars saved.

But what has developed is some sort of mysterious passion between this piece of rope and me (probably only a one-way affection, I realize). Each morning when I wake up, I roll over, look out the window, and determine whether this will be a clothesline day or not. Living in lovely, sunny N.C., I am rarely disappointed to find I will have use the dryer. And then, once my feet hit the floor, one of my first actions of the day is to quickly get clothes into the washer, so I can maximize outdoor drying time.

Why? Why do I enjoy this? I told Pete recently that I feel like hanging clothes out is one of the most feminine things I do.  In the rest of the dishwasher-loading, blender-running, microwaving, vacuuming life I lead, I can easily start feeling like a machine myself, but the irony of it all is that when I am doing the most old-fashioned, non-machine-oriented chore of my day, I feel most like a woman, connected to women in generations past who dried their clothes in this way. (Believe me, this desire to be connected to eras-gone-by only goes this far; I have no desire to start washing my clothes down on the rocks, or carry water in from the well so I can wash dishes.)

And there is something very sense-full about hanging out the clothes. For the 7 minutes that I am in the yard doing this, I am quiet. Most of the noise is still inside (occasionally a child or two will follow me out, but not usually). I can actually hear the birds sing, the neighborhood clock tower chimes, the wind blowing the leaves. I can feel the breeze, or the crunchy grass beneath my feet. And my eyes are pleased by seeing all the sweet little body-less clothes of my children hanging neatly in a row, being sanitized by the wondrous power of the sun. In the evening, when all the clothes are back inside, I love the way they smell – of the outside, clean and fresh.

There are other reasons to love my clothesline:
-the opportunity to either drill myself on the most efficient way to line things up, or to give my brain a break and mindlessly do the menial task;
-the chances it occasionally gives me to chat with my neighbor over the fence who is taking a cigarette break;
- the way it enables me to “save the environment”;
-and, certainly not least in the list, the way I can save money by not using my dryer!

But probably, realistically speaking, one of the reasons I love my clothesline the most is because I don’t have to use it. I do have that dryer back-up, and can switch back to that method at any time. I am thankful that connection to the women of yore only goes so far. :)

My joy in the hanging may wane soon -- perhaps when the weather gets too cold -- but for now I feel like starting a p.r. campaign:  "Clotheslines:  good for the environment, good for your soul."