Hung out to Dry
As a devoted cheapskate hiding behind a cloak of environmentalism, I hang up laundry in the backyard to dry on a clothesline. Clotheslines seem increasingly rare these days. Indeed, our home didn’t come with a clothesline, unlike, say, the swimming pool and hot tub. Installing one was one of my first home improvement chores, though I wonder if our neighbors consider it and the lump of concrete that holds it in the ground less of an “improvement” and more of a “hideous abomination that drags area property values.”*
I picked up the clothesline habit from my parents. They hung almost everything outside in the summer, and strung clotheslines in the basement so they could hang wet laundry in the winter. When I struck out on my own, I carried their values of conservation** and clotheslines into my backyard and hung my laundry out to dry. Someday my children may absorb these values, but for now they just use the hanging clothes to annoy me.
Of the 4,214,721,025 annoying things my children do, none of them infuriate me more than pulling clothes off the line. Throwing food on the floor? The dog will clean it. Breaking the cabinet drawers by pulling them all the way and hanging off the end? Meh, we were going to replace those cabinets eventually anyway. Climbing furniture up to perilous elevations? I try to stop them, but if they fall, maybe the intense pain of sudden impact will teach them a lesson that my shouting can’t. Pull clothes off the line while they play outside so I can prepare for/clean up after lunch in peace? Whoa boy… Hang freshly washed clothes on a line in front of them, and my children will pull them down with such zeal you’d think there’s a chocolate bar held in each pocket.
I hate the extra time I need to re-hang wet clothes. I spend 10-15 minutes hanging a load of laundry while the kids play at my feet and near the dangling garments. The last thing I want to do is pick the clothes off the ground, figure out which hole in the clothesline they resided, and return them to dry. This is especially true when a meal or naptime looms near, and in our house, one of those always looms near. I imagine the time savings is why many people simply use a dryer. For now, I don’t mind standing outside with the kids watching them play while I hang clothes once.
I hate the wet clothes hitting the dirt beneath the clothesline. After taking the time to gather the laundry, sort it into loads that will look okay if the colors bleed onto each other, and wash it in the machine, I don’t want to pick the formerly clean clothes off the ground to find fresh mud stains. When I’m lucky, the clothes are mostly dry, the ground is mostly dry, and the clothes have a few specks that I can easily flick. When I’m not lucky, the clothes are wet, the ground is wet, and the kids spent a good half hour tromping circles around and through the discarded clothes before I discovered them. That’s when I get to run an extra load of laundry.
Most of all, I hate the destruction of clothespins. These spring-loaded wooden contraptions that are chock full of choking hazards are a favorite forbidden toy of my children. Pulling down hung clothes often brings clothespins down too. They love grabbing the ends and pulling the clothespin apart. Sometimes the clothespin falls apart when the clothes come down, but that’s no problem for them. They simply pull down some more garments until they scare up fresh pin meat.
After picking up the clothes and assessing them for fresh stains, I have to pick up the clothespins. More accurately, I pick up the clothespin remains. Grab one wooden piece her, one wooden piece there, a bent-beyond-repair metal spring there, and repeat until the number of recovered pins equals twice the number of recovered clothes. The time I waste cleaning aggravates me, but so does the wastefulness. These perfectly good pins a minute ago are now uselessly limp with their twisted springs. Those things cost money, you know. Oh, and think of the trees that have to die to supply their wood; that’s bad too.
* If they do dislike it, it’s their own fault for looking over our privacy fence.
** Conservation of money, not energy.
I picked up the clothesline habit from my parents. They hung almost everything outside in the summer, and strung clotheslines in the basement so they could hang wet laundry in the winter. When I struck out on my own, I carried their values of conservation** and clotheslines into my backyard and hung my laundry out to dry. Someday my children may absorb these values, but for now they just use the hanging clothes to annoy me.
Of the 4,214,721,025 annoying things my children do, none of them infuriate me more than pulling clothes off the line. Throwing food on the floor? The dog will clean it. Breaking the cabinet drawers by pulling them all the way and hanging off the end? Meh, we were going to replace those cabinets eventually anyway. Climbing furniture up to perilous elevations? I try to stop them, but if they fall, maybe the intense pain of sudden impact will teach them a lesson that my shouting can’t. Pull clothes off the line while they play outside so I can prepare for/clean up after lunch in peace? Whoa boy… Hang freshly washed clothes on a line in front of them, and my children will pull them down with such zeal you’d think there’s a chocolate bar held in each pocket.
I hate the extra time I need to re-hang wet clothes. I spend 10-15 minutes hanging a load of laundry while the kids play at my feet and near the dangling garments. The last thing I want to do is pick the clothes off the ground, figure out which hole in the clothesline they resided, and return them to dry. This is especially true when a meal or naptime looms near, and in our house, one of those always looms near. I imagine the time savings is why many people simply use a dryer. For now, I don’t mind standing outside with the kids watching them play while I hang clothes once.
I hate the wet clothes hitting the dirt beneath the clothesline. After taking the time to gather the laundry, sort it into loads that will look okay if the colors bleed onto each other, and wash it in the machine, I don’t want to pick the formerly clean clothes off the ground to find fresh mud stains. When I’m lucky, the clothes are mostly dry, the ground is mostly dry, and the clothes have a few specks that I can easily flick. When I’m not lucky, the clothes are wet, the ground is wet, and the kids spent a good half hour tromping circles around and through the discarded clothes before I discovered them. That’s when I get to run an extra load of laundry.
Most of all, I hate the destruction of clothespins. These spring-loaded wooden contraptions that are chock full of choking hazards are a favorite forbidden toy of my children. Pulling down hung clothes often brings clothespins down too. They love grabbing the ends and pulling the clothespin apart. Sometimes the clothespin falls apart when the clothes come down, but that’s no problem for them. They simply pull down some more garments until they scare up fresh pin meat.
After picking up the clothes and assessing them for fresh stains, I have to pick up the clothespins. More accurately, I pick up the clothespin remains. Grab one wooden piece her, one wooden piece there, a bent-beyond-repair metal spring there, and repeat until the number of recovered pins equals twice the number of recovered clothes. The time I waste cleaning aggravates me, but so does the wastefulness. These perfectly good pins a minute ago are now uselessly limp with their twisted springs. Those things cost money, you know. Oh, and think of the trees that have to die to supply their wood; that’s bad too.
* If they do dislike it, it’s their own fault for looking over our privacy fence.
** Conservation of money, not energy.
posted by Matt at
11:36 PM
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