HOT LAUNDRY in Postcards 4

Hot Laundry: Acrylic and Pastel.

I have to admit that I am really grateful not to wash my laundry and hang it out on the line in 100 some degree heat as my grandma did. My mother insisted that all our laundry be dried outside in the sun and warm sea air. But she didn’t do it. The housekeeper did it.

Me. My fifteen year old washing machine died last Friday. It had Friday’s laundry in it, washed, full of soap, but unrinsed. We removed the clothes, wrung them out, and popped them in the dryer. G called the repair folks. They came out Monday, and decided that it was not the motor. Oh, hurrah. They left us waiting for the part.

George went to work.

I bagged last week’s laundry including the sheets, Grabbed HP-6, and got George to drive me to the corner laundromat. Thank you G. There I was faced with massive construction, cute new, gay owners, and all new massive machines. Frankly, they were almost beyond me.

When we got home, there were the dried soapy clothes forgotten in the dryer.

This morning I bagged up the semi soapy but dried clothes and headed to the laundromat.

“Oh, you’re back,” said one of the owners with a smile.
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• Himself: At work except for two trips to the corner laundromat.


• Myself: Finding myself in a domestic day.


• Photo: Mine.


• Reading: Harry Potter 6…the last one.


• Gratitude’s: George has to be tired of running me hither and yon.