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Friday 19 July 2002
This morning Big-P urged me to get out
of bed and come at look at the sunrise out of our kitchen
windows. The kitchen glowed pink and the sky took my breath
away.
Fine and windy was the forecast for today
- and do you know what my first reaction was to such news?
"What a great washing day!" -- I actually felt myself
get a little bit excited by the prospect of stripping beds
and doing loads and loads of washing and then hanging them
out in the fresh and spritely wind. Two and a half months
away from actually being a mum, and I am already having mum-like
reactions to my environment.
So I did a load just now and then took
it out into the back yard and began to peg things to the line.
What a struggle that turned out to be. The wind is incredibly
strong in our yard - blowing up from the valley and across
the neighbour's roof top. As I pegged, I got more and more
frustrated - and more and more tangled in the sheets. I was
playing tug-of-war with the towels and had to master the art
of hanging on to the clothes for dear life as I madly pegged
them with the regrettably cheaper pegs we bought last week.
As soon as I would let one piece of heavily pegged (three
pegs per pillow slip!) clothing go, it would take off with
the wind and spin the clothes hoist around and around... I
felt like I was aboard some tiny vessel struggling on high
seas with big wet sails flapping madly and threatening to
break free. Breaking free was what I feared the most - I can
think of nothing more embarrassing than having to go around
to my new neighbour's house to retrieve three loads of washing
out of their rose bushes including my old and frayed underwear.
--
feeling that it can't actually be possible to have too much
wind for drying clothes, I have braved the elements again
and hung up a load of small, less wind catching things; socks,
undies, tea towels and so on. I keep pacing into the lounge
room to peer out the window and make sure that they are all
still there.
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