Posts Tagged ‘T-shirt’

Washin’ in the Rain

April 26, 2010

Rainy days are tricky for laundry. If you hang yours out in the yard to dry, the dilemma is clear. Yet even if you use an electric dryer you might still have a sense that the laundry isn’t entirely dry, particularly if it’s been raining for a few days and everything seems to be a bit damp indoors and out.

Nevertheless I did my laundry on this rainy day—the second of what looks to be a string of them. Now I feel all cozy inside.

There’s a big pile of freshly dried laundry waiting for me, and T-shirts and pants hanging on the drying rack for later. If I’m feeling ambitious I might take out the ironing board or sew on a stray button, but it’s more likely that I’ll put a good movie on the TV, fold the towels, pair up the socks and smooth out the sheets.

When things look gloomy outside, laundry helps you focus inward.

To Everything There is a Season

April 7, 2010

We mark the passing of the seasons through laundry: Socks turns from black to white and back again; sleeves grow longer then shorter then longer again; fabrics shed weight and texture, then fatten up.

Bright colored T-shirts and (in a month or so) sleeveless blouses drip dry from the shower rod. There are the requisite black Ts of course, but they hang alongside melon, lime, and raspberry—the flavors of the season. Pumpkin, red, and gold would seem incongruous now.

Everything takes a little longer to dry now that the heat has been turned off, but the air around the laundry rack is cool and moist, and the scent of fabric softener creates the illusion of having my own clothesline in the sun. If I close my eyes I can picture the fabric rippling in the breeze. And in the morning, the day seems brighter when I’m greeted by a drawer full of freshly laundered clothes.

Like the food we eat, the clothes we wear—and launder—change with the seasons.

Laundry is in sync with nature.

Selecting My Cycle

February 25, 2010

How long does it take to create momentum?

Right now I feel like I’ve just selected my cycle. Regular Wash. Warm. Universal, easy and manageable. I feel the excitement of a new beginning—the pleasure of hearing the water cascade from the hoses into the tub, watching through the window of the front loader as it soaks the clothes, preparing for the time when there will be agitation, suds, a rinse and a good, hard spin before they finally come to a rest in the bottom of the drum.

I love to watch the T-shirts that cling to the top of the drum when the cycle comes to an end. They grip the edge, flattening themselves against it, trying to avoid the inevitable pull of gravity. Eventually, though, the force is too strong; they must let go. And so they drop onto the pile below.

They’re like someone dangling off a cliff, hanging over an abyss enshrouded by clouds, desperate to claw his way back onto the precipice. Letting go is a risk when you don’t know what’s waiting to meet you on the other side. Then again, like the T-shirt dropping onto the pile of freshly washed clothes, you could discover that this is where you belonged all along.

It takes more than a few days to create momentum—this I know. Then I see something like this blog post and I believe that there is significance to everything. Even laundry. Especially laundry.