It rarely happens that the first day of spring is warm and sunny here.
And by warm I mean 59 degrees, not California warm of 75 degrees. We dared to go to a softball game in just our shirtsleeves, seduced by the sun, and came to regret it as we huddled under begged and borrowed sweatshirts.
But I digress.
It rarely happens that the first day of Spring is sunny here (see, it’s easier if I just leave out the warm), but it happened this year. And I was able to do two things for the first time in 2010: open the windows to let some blessed fresh air into the house, and hang some clothes out on the line to dry.
I can admit that it seems silly to view hanging clothes out to dry as noteworthy at all. I’m not sure why I enjoy it, maybe there’s something elemental about hanging clothes. I’m forced to take a few minutes to enjoy the world around me. There’s no thought involved other than looking at the sky and grass and listening to the birds.
I even feel connected to countless other women before me who’ve hung clothes to dry (although I’m sure some of those women would’ve killed for a clothes dryer).
It’s actually sorta therapeutic.
But that’ll just be our secret. I like to maintain the image for my family of all the drudgery I do for them…”look! I’m lugging out this huge basket of clothes and hanging them up for you.”
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