It all started when I was talking with a co-worker. It has been a fabulously mild January and she told me that her goal was to dry some laundry out on a wash line in each month of the year. She had already accomplished that for January during the New Year's holiday.
I determined that this could be a fun goal. It was 50 degrees that day as well. It was a Wednesday, and I was only working until noon. I had an errand to run, but there would certainly be a couple of hours of daylight remaining when I returned home.
Stepping into my house just after 2:30 pm, I delayed putting away my groceries and dashed down to the washer to throw in a set of bed linens. I washed them on a quick wash to save time. By 3:00 the sheets were washed. I went out to set up our wash line. We keep a broken post from our old croquet set in the hole to mark it. Since the ground was somewhat frozen, I was trying to move the thing back and forth to be certain it would release. It was moving, but was a bit below the level of the ground. I decided that since the post was hollow, I could just push the pole over that little broken post and it would seat around it and save me some time. So, I began pounding that pole into its place. After a few minutes of fruitless pounding, I looked at the bottom of the pole only to see that it was clogged with dirt. I had been pounding that broken post into the ground even further. Time was ticking by and the daylight would be even shorter than when I started. Struggling to find some implement that would unseat my obstacle I grabbed a pitchfork out of the shed. Surely the tines were far enough apart that I could work one in next to the post and coerce it out of the ground. Nope. Didn't work. I was feeling more anxious. Time kept on ticking away. Perhaps another yard implement. I know! The small pruning clipper. I knelt down on the frozen ground, thinking "Oh, no. Now my pants will be wet." But I was determined to not spend the time running to the basement for a pliers. (Never mind that I had probably spent 5 minutes finding tools that were not up to the task in the shed.) Fighting the urge to chance yet another failed yard tool, I finally dashed to the basement to retrieve a pliers and a screw driver. Success! I got that elusive piece of wood out of the ground and successfully seated my post for my wash line.
It was now past 3:15, and I knew that there was less than 2 hours left of daylight. My line was completely in shadow, as it is on the north of our home. There was little chance that my sheets would dry, especially since there was absolutely NO BREEZE. Perhaps if there was a breeze! My sheets could have that marvelous scent that comes only from being dried outside. I felt a glimmer of hope as I thought about the help that a breeze could bring. I knew what to do. We had a box fan in the basement. I could set that up next to my sheets and I would have what I needed to enjoy that sweet smell of success I was so desperately seeking. A few minutes later, I had that fan resting against my laundry basket and creating a lovely luffing in my sheets . Ah. This is how a sailor must feel after languishing in the doldrums.
I quietly left my well crafted project to finish making supper, secure in the knowledge that I was on my way to accomplishing my new goal.
Soon it was after 5 and the sun had set. I sauntered out to my sheets and reached up to find that they were still damp. Oh well. I could still say that I had hung my laundry out on the line in January. But the droning of the dryer reminded me of my failure to capture that beloved scent in the middle of winter.
Later in the day, when I tried to describe my escapade to my husband, I realized through the tears of laughter, that I should just be grateful that no one was there to witness my efforts. Really? A box fan?
Thank goodness my nosy neighbor lives across the street, and not in the house behind our yard. This experience could have been broadcast to the entire community.
Thank goodness it is only in cyberspace. My secret is safe.
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