analog me

The Laundry. . .

It seems that my seasonal ineffective disorder has been replaced by Summertime Overdrive Disorder. I'm so busy doing things that I should have done before, that I have no time to do anything I really want to do now. 

As usual it was the Laundry that moved me. (I'm sorry, I'm trying to stop.) 

You may remember that in a moment of blogging-induced euphoria I decided that henceforth all laundry would be done al Fresco? I did have the clarity of thinking to accept that the actual washing of clothing could be delegated to my washing machine, but I have been trying to dry and fold most of my clothes outside. So I am guaranteed to spend a least 1/2 hour a day outside, instead of in my laundry dungeon. 

While I was enjoying doing the laundry outdoors, I could no longer ignore the fact that the yard was neglected and ugly. So from laundry, I went to gardening. I  did about 3 years worth of garden rehab, tree trimming, tree planting, transplanting etc.  So now I have an even nicer place to fold the laundry. 

I also made this little peg bag to hold my clothes pins from some scraps some of which I covered with iron-on vinyl. It's very handy and the water proof top and back is nice if you forget it out in the rain. I made directions. 

(When I started blogging, I had no idea what direction it would take me, but I had no idea my future was in Laundry blogging. I didn't even realize it was a blogging niche.)

Later, with only a few hours to get my younger son ready for camp I found that his stuff sack had disappeared. How does a sleeping bag divorce itself from the stuff sack? My older son had just chopped the legs off his pants to make shorts, so I grabbed that fabric, and old sash from a dress I no longer wear, an extra belt, and a shoelace and made this. 

He asked for the shoulder strap so it would be easier to carry. Doesn't this design look like it would be great for. . . a laundry bag? Each lad could have a personalized bag to tote that bale of cotton undies and t-shirts around.  I got a helpful laundry tip from Andreae--don't mix it up by family member, then you don't have to sort it out. This idea and the laundry sack, were in my mind as I folded clothes in the dappled shade. Suddenly a revelation. . . the kids are old enough to do their own damn laundry. (to be fair: My older son is a camp counsellor intern this year and is already doing his own each weekend.)

Now I need a new blogging niche. And quick, before I start seriously contemplating knitting my own clothesline or crocheting laundry baskets out of garbage bags.

 

Laundry Challenged

Looking back on May, I sadly--but not surprisingly--recognize that the hardest part of wearing self-made clothes for a month ended up being my old nemesis: THE LAUNDRY. 

During much of May, I had tooth problems, and became unable to deal with more than trying to remember how many hours before I could take my next dose of pain pills, wearing something clean I made myself, and reading the complete ouvre of James Herriot Dog Stories. (Just in case you ever need tranquilizing reading, I do recommend the "Warm and Wonderful Stories about the Animals Herriot Loves Best.") 

During this time, the Mr. went to work, did most of the housework and washed those unceasing bushels of laundry. 

Laundry beefcake courtesy of Minnesota HIstorical Society photos

The weather became warm and humid and we were often too distracted to move the laundry from the washer to the dryer--or from the dryer upstairs and out of our dank basement-- so our "clean" clothes would sit in the laundry dungeon and mildew. I would then innocently drag the giant baskets of laundry upstairs, fold a couple shirts, realize they stank, do my impersonation of the cursing mommy , dump the clean-yet-fetid washed clothes into the dirty laundry stream and then repeat the whole process again.  What is it about laundry and obscene language anyway?

A Minnesota Mildew-free (obscenity free?) Post-tornado al fresco laundry party  

By the time we finally got the laundry clean, I had lost weight (the tooth) so my jeans were too big, and my 10-year old had outgrown his pants.

Anyway, I realized the hardest part of wearing the clothes I had so carefully stitched up was washing them. 

So, I think I'm up for a REAL challenge. It's going to be the month when I finally get every bit of laundry clean. All the down jackets I dumped in the basement in May, all the heavy comforters, all the socks under the couch. . . crap,  just writing that made me depressed. I was going to ask if anyone wanted to join me, but damn let's not do that.

Those tornado victims above have inspired me. I'm going to go for this: Al Fresco Laundry Month. After doing all that other stuff that needs doing, let's get outside and do the laundry! 

Here are some awesome products to think about.

I want this hand-operated washing machine. And that Butane Iron. . . smoking hot!

Might will settle for a Washboard.

But it's raining today, so I guess I will get started making some pants that fit.

A digression on Laundry, Facebook and archaic forms of measurement

After wasting plenty of time over the last couple of years explaining why I don't want a Facebook account, I decided to just waste some time actually having an account. As I was setting up my profile, with my teenage son's assistance, I came to a question that said something like "What do you do?' (My most despised question.) 

Instantly, I answered, "Laundry."

"Oh, Mom," my son said in total disgust, "Not what do you do, but what do you want to do?" (Notice that he didn't deny that is what I do.) Well, those are two completely different questions, and no matter what career trajectory I find myself on, I consistently spend a lot of time doing laundry. 

(A little rant Have you noticed that that question "what do you do?" really means something more like, "In one sentence tell something about your career that will allow others to quickly and superficially classify you in terms of profession, earnings, politics etc?" )

Anyway back to laundry. A little later, I was talking to my husband who was out of town for work and was waiting in his hotel room for a NPR sound engineer to come set up for a radio interview. "What are you doing today?" he innocently asked. 

"Laundry." That didn't sound remotely as important as what he was doing, so I revised my answer: "Eight bushels of laundry and match up several pecks of socks." 

Then, being curious, I decided to actually measure the amount of laundry I did. Imagine my surprise to discover it was over a hogshead! Yes, you heard me, a hogshead, and a kilderkin or almost an entire firkin!

(A hogshead is six bushels, or 63 dry gallons.) Of my laundry an entire 1 bushel (8 dry gallons) and 2 pecks were socks. Somehow, knowing that made the task seem much more heroic. And that's just the laundry from about ten days. As there are only 4 hogsheads in a tonne, that means that our family is producing almost a tonne of laundry each month!

I keep thinking there has to be some way to spend less time doing laundry. ( I've been thinking this for the last 16 years, ever since I produced a baby we nicknamed "the cheese factory.") And this is all I can come up with: 1) Wear less clothing. 2) Wear dirty clothing. 

We often rummage through giant baskets of clean clothing for something to wear. Then some dirty laundry gets mixed in, then people dump stuff on the floor and pretty soon it results in yet even more laundry needing to be rewashed. Arggh!!!

Maybe I should start amusing myself by using odd, archaic measures to start tallying up the pecks, bushels, hogsheads, and eventually, tons (or tonnes)! A butt consists of two hogsheads (16 bushels), so now I know that it is accurate to say " we went out of town and then got the stomach flu, so now I am doing a buttload of laundry."

I know what you're thinking. . . Shouldn't I be using the efficient metric forms of measure? No, even though President Bush signed "America Competes" metric conversion legislation in 2007 I know that the metric system originated in France and is therefore un-American.

But, you ask, shouldn't mass be measured by weight and not volume? Well my only scale goes up to 5 lbs. When we bought our house it came with several ancient wicker bushel baskets that refuse to fall apart, so that shall be my unit of measurement!

And now when someone asks me what I do, I will have a really interesting reply.