inspired
to journal
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From
the Clothesline
1977 - Johnny used to do the laundry. I'd get it all together, put soap in plastic bags, and he'd be off. That was when he was unemployed. Then when he started working, and I was unemployed, I did the laundry. But I didn't mind, because by then we had a washing machine. I always hung the clothes on the line outside, even in the winter. If the sheets were stiff in 10-degree weather, they were still wet. You knew they were dry when they'd flap loosely in the wind. But sometimes the bottoms were always stiff, because there was 2' of snow on the ground and they would brush against it. There I'd be in snow up to my knees hanging laundry early in the morning to get the most sun on it as possible. Otherwise the sheets would never flap. 1994 - I'm very frustrated hanging laundry in Tennessee. The humidity of the Smoky Mountains is the thickest I have experienced. Clothes simply don't dry on a line. For the first time ever, except for going to the laundromat, I am using a dryer. Towels and diapers are fluffy - what a luxury! The funny part, though, is that I take them out of the dryer at night, fold them, stack them, and they are damp in the morning! I look forward to getting back to the desert this summer... Sept. 2000 - It's Monday morning. I'm whiny, tired, bloated. There's much work to do - sewing, writing, gardening, bead orders and phone calls. I want to do none of it. I do a little writing, too tired for sewing. Email is easy. I throw in a load of laundry and take down the one I left on the clothesline overnight. I zen-out at the clothesline, slowly releasing the towels from the grasp of the clothespins. I fold a kitchen towel and hold it close. I stand still, blankly staring at the grass. I come back to today when the dog chases a flying grasshopper. I drop the towel on top of folded lavender flannel sheets in the basket. I stand still again and stare some more. The phone rings and I run inside. It's Gretchen. Her mom has passed away. We expected it, not so soon, but it's sad anyway. This doesn't help my mood. I let it be a good reason to cry. I do more writing, finding myself in a discussion with a woman about writing on Themestream. I'm defending TS, but not very effectively. I could get argumentative, but don't want to be here all morning stating my case. I'm too tired to make sense anyway. I drop it and go back outside to hang wet laundry. Domestic chores seem appropriate for a day like this, they are so mindless. Again I zen-out at the clothesline, lingering at each towel corner, making sure they are hanging straight, but not really paying attention to them. My thoughts are elsewhere. Anywhere. My mind needs to flow. (That was an excerpt from another essay, 'Moon Day.') October 1, 2001 - This morning I folded towels. I was too tired to write. I'm recovering from this flu-ish thing that laid me up last week. These towels have been waiting for me since last Monday... I dig into the basket. My mind relaxes - I mentally put away the list of in-town chores I need to do today, the articles I need to write, the packages I need to get ready for the post office. Folding towels is all I can take this morning. Blue and purple flannel sheets. These belong to the girls. I put new beds (with fresh sheets) in their room last week. This morning, I am relishing the quiet time here at the linen closet, so I take the time to fold the fitted sheets just so. I have to get a stool to put them on the top shelf. The bath towels are my favorite solid colors - teal, dusty pink, navy blue, sage green. I need purple. I want to paint the bathroom in these colors. * * * * * I love doing laundry. At the clothesline, I let the early morning sun warm me. I listen to the crows, magpies, and hummingbirds. I look at the mountains in the west, dreaming about the land I own there. I look around the yard and mentally plant new trees and make a new rock garden. The dog lays in the sun, the cat climbs the fence. On September 11, I forced myself to 'act normal' by doing a necessary load of laundry. At the clothesline, I noticed grasshoppers and birds going about their business, unaware of life, or loss of it, 2,000 miles away, not worried about war or a recession, unfazed by anything but their natural world. Oh to be a grasshopper on that day… Laundry is a chore I do not dread. It's a time for my mind to wander. This morning was no different - it was a coffee break in the middle of being overwhelmed by a busy week. Taking this time to just 'stop' rejuvenated me. Find time to take a breath and slow down. Put your responsibilities out of your mind for ten minutes or so. It's hard on us to keep on keepin' on, if we never take time for ourselves. We need to assimilate life and put it into perspective. Whether it's doing laundry or taking a hot bath or sitting in your favorite chair doing nothing, make time for only you. * |
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