I have been obsessively and ridiculously attached to my new umbrella laundry line: lovingly pinning up wet clothes, dodging the wasps who love the pins, baking in the 100 degree heat to fold up the sweet-smelling clothes and bring them back inside. At the back of my mind I wonder as I do this, why am I so in love with this totally cliched symbol of domesticity? Yes, I bought it with money earned working in Alaska, not so domestic, that. But really, what is more bougie (as in bourgeois) than doing your laundry in the energy-saving front loader and then having the time and headspace to deal with hanging it up outside all day long? Taking the stay-at-home-mom thing to the limit, for now, anyway. But I realized today that my obsession with the laundry line is what it represents to me right now, as I get closer to our take-off time, and more and more stressed out about everything. I mean, I still have to: pack (a truly daunting task that I am leaving to the very very last moment), clear off the desk and pack away the computer, get the last Hep B shot, get Grace's cast off, try to get rid of the skunk, get in a swim so I can finally see Samuel dive and Grace jump off the diving board, gather up the math manipulatives I'll need for both 1st grade and 3rd grade math, clean out the car so we can fit 8 suitcases, clean up the house a little so as to not totally gross out the housesitters, etc. etc. And do the last bit of laundry.
Ahhh, and there it is--the laundry line. I have all of these things to do, but the laundry line is a quiet moment of order, peace, calm. It's my nice quiet life, when we just do our lessons, drive to fiddle or gymnastics, bake bread, go on nature hikes, visit friends. It's all that is known and safe. It's clean and orderly and unchanging. That's a great thing when life is in an uproar. Maybe next summer I won't be so in love with my laundry line, but right now, it's the best thing going.
3 comments:
I'm now tuned onto your blog..you express exactly how we cling to the most mondane things to express our emotional state...Love
At nine or ten months, you learned to steady yourself in the new pursuit of walking...in your G'ma Starkie's backyard under her sturdy rectangular clothes line. There was lush wobbly grass and lots of peonies and other flowers under all her gorgeous trees.
G'ma had a wringer washer that I learned to lovingly use. You wore cloth diapers (!!) and pretty dresses that aunt Lucy made for you. You were stung by a wasp or honey bee, which freaked us out...another reminder of my responsibility (or irresponsibility) for your safety.
Sun and air dried clothes smell of life. It's the best, wasps aside.
BTW, your line is quite handsome.
Your 'ol Mom.
Another thing: I was trying to remember you G'ma's favorite adjective at the time...El-e-gant, each syllable pronounced as though all her senses experienced the sound. Your grandpa Ralph's favorite word was bea-u-ti-ful.
I think they would say your clothes line is elegant and beautiful...
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