|I don't have a picture of my clothesline yet, just the sunset on The Poor Farm.|
Also, I could use some new chair cushions if you see some at a garage sale,
but they must be paisley, checked, solid, flowered or striped. I'm very particular.
What a great crazy week. Our wonderful daughter Raven was married several days ago and then yesterday was her "I-Do BBQ" reception. Friends and family from out of town and out of state visited, local officials visited the future septic system site and the grain bin house building site (don't get me started, let me just say not near as much fun to have around as the out of town friends and family) and we bought a washing machine.
Yes, a new washing machine. But NOT a dryer. We don't plan to own one of them ever again. The new washing machine though was indeed one of the weeks highlights. For the last month we've been dependent on the generosity of friends and family for washing our clothes as well as a few visits to the local Laundromats.
Wow. I don't know where psychology students do their internships now but they should stop immediately and begin hanging out in Laundromats. The Full Monty hangs around many a spin cycle and several interesting thesises, thesi?, could easily be hammered out in between the arguments over who trashed who most vehemently on Facebook or who took the last quarters from the change box. Like they did last week, like they always do.
Real arguments recently witnessed.
This change in laundry status has been another eye opener for us as homesteaders. In the past I might've wiped up a little juice or tea with a dishcloth and then casually tossed it in the laundry hamper, just because we had TWO washer dryer sets in the house, now however; I wait until the rag is stiff enough to block open our caravan door before I will concede it needs laundering. Laundromats are expensive and ironically, very dirty.
I do miss the convenience of washing clothing willy- nilly as I pleased but I am a bit appalled by the amount of water and energy I wasted. Reckless they call me. Keith often hung out his chores clothes on the clothesline but I was too busy (aka lazy) to do the same with our good clothes and household linens. I was a dryer pimp, using it shamelessly even when the sun shone bright. You see, some couples have separate checking accounts, hubbie and I had separate washer/dryers. The manure clothes were washed in the basement while everything else got special treatment upstairs.
But now, fabric segregation has come to a full stop. All we have in the caravan is primarily chore clothes, and they all smell bad at the end of the day. So after getting the new washer we were thrilled to set it up and immediately not thrilled to realize we had bought a high efficiency piece of worthless-non-agitating-water-phobic-bucket-of-bolts. We gave it three tries, even read the manual and followed directions but that stupid thing was meant to wash executive client whitey tighties not the jeans, heavy socks and button down shirts of real working lower class folks like ourselves. So back it goes tomorrow.
I am now in the market for an old fashioned ringer washer, the kind that really agitates your clothes instead of just teasing them. I need a bully washer.