Rinse, wash, repeat
Our dryer broke on Friday or maybe Thursday, it’s all a blur of laundry at this point. The neighbor let me drag my loads of wet clothes to her house to dry and I’m sure she’s trying to figure my portion of her utility bills right about now after underestimating the volume of laundry I trekked to her home.
We walked back and forth, all long weekend long. Me with one kid or the other, pulling a wagon full of wet laundry and carrying another home dry. Sometimes we stayed to talk for a bit and sometimes an extra kid stowed away in the piles and the boys surprised us at just how long they could laugh at things that aren’t funny.
I strung a line between our house and garage to hang sheets and towels but dropped pretty much everything on the ground at least once while trying to master the art of the clothespin. I also thought about calling my grandma to find out the secret to soft line-dried linens as I wrapped clean kids in crunchy towels.
The weight of wet laundry slowed all of our walks and Parker and I picked up old sticks left from the longest winter in history. He giggled when I yelled “timberrrr” when one branch fell and I searched my brain for the reason people say timber when trees fall because he wanted to know right that second.
When we moved here I soaked in the sounds and the peace and couldn’t wait to slow life down. But just as coveted toys end up on the garage sale table, the pace of our days dulled our surroundings. The drop offs and the pick ups and the practices sent me back to the email and the phone and the checking of Facebook every other minute.
Thanks to a fantastic Memorial Day sale my husband is installing our new dryer as I type and I might hug it or him or both. I’m cutting down my drying line and not just because the weight of it tipped our garage light. I have no desire for air-drying and laundry that takes a five acre walk to finish but I do want to slow down.
I’ve had my eyes on the clock and my phone and everywhere but right here and my listening hasn’t really been full of hearing much. We’re counting down to summer and Sawyer’s birthday and a huge increase in the amount of time people can fight over the color of drink straws. I don’t want to nod my head while looking at my phone or yell “mmm-hmm” when I have no idea what anyone asked for. I want to remember why we loved our house when it seemed shiny new and look at my kids like they didn’t just wipe their faces on my white clothes.
I’m going to start off summer with my eyes open and maybe set the timer on my new dryer to remind me to log off Facebook, as soon as I figure out what button turns it on.
