It’s time, don’t you think? We’ve tackled the dishwasher, the butter/peanut butter, the condiments, the cups and the sheets! We’ve tackled them with curiosity, with attention to detail, with sheer passion and I know that this will bring out very strong views. It’ time, yes, it’s time.
I have an unabashed love for washing. Sure, when we moved into this house I was overwhelmed with it’s amazingness but NOTHING could win me over like my hills hoist. Sheets billowing in the breeze, towels getting crunchy on the line, sunshine making everything better. The whole process is a pleasure for me including yes, the folding and the putting away. I am nothing if not thorough. Sure, the taking off the line and folding is the least favourite part, but I do it anyway until the job is done. Nothing makes me more woozy and panicked than PILES OF WASHING OFF THE LINE JUST SITTING THERE. All piled up and creased, sitting there. You will never see that at my house. Not because of any other reason than I just can’t abide it. And I refuse to iron. See? Cray.
But my very favourite part of the process is the hanging out. Oh the hanging out! Nothing pleases me more than a basket, me, the pegs, the line and some sunshine. A good (and essential) shake out before hanging, towels and other big items at the back of the line so as to get maximum sunshine, working inwards with smaller pieces until you have smalls at the very front of the line. One section of the hills hoist at a time, then onto the next. I am not one to colour match my pegs to the item of clothing which I know has been done by others more dedicated than myself. A well hung line is a thing of beauty.
I have heard of hanging individual family members clothes in separate sections, matching pegs, hanging shirts from under the arms so as to not get peg marks…there are endless possibilities here. A contentious post I’m sure. For me, the firm shake out before hanging is the most important step here. My darling husband tends to hang things in clumps WITHOUT PEGS SOMETIMES which sees me redoing the hanging out and banning him from doing it again. Anal? Of course I am. I can’t believe you haven’t worked that out already.
So. Over to you. How do you hang? Do you match your pegs? Do you gasp, leave your pegs on the line after the clothes are off? Can you live with piles of clean clothes about? If so, teach me how. Actually don’t. PUT THEM AWAY ALREADY. Is washing a joy or a curse for you? Just why am so passionate about the mundane?
Oh, and? Happy Weekend!