Hung out to dry

I washed my first load of laundry yesterday. This was a task that I wasn't dreading per se, but let's just say that I wasn't necessarily looking forward to it.

As I lowered my towel into the washing machine I took a good, long whiff. It still smelled like the dryer sheet from when I washed it before I left. Gotta love Downy. I held it for a moment between my hands reveling in its softness because I knew that when it was dry again later...it wouldn't be that soft. Instead, I knew it would feel more like sandpaper than a fluffy ball of cotton.

We don't have dryer here at the convent. In fact, most Europeans don't own dryers. I think that this is in part because of space limitations, but also because electricity is so expensive over here. Instead, Mother Nature is their dryer. That's right. I will now be hanging my clothes and linens on a clothesline to dry.

I've never used a clothesline to dry clothes and such before. It was a learning experience. I learned, for instance, that you have to fold the clothes over the line just a little and then put the clothespin on them so that when the wind picks up it doesn't carry your clothing down the street. (Thankfully, Lynda taught me this before I was forced to look for a shirt only to discover it in our neighbor's yard) I learned that it's best to hang your clothes out earlier than later because they'll dry faster. And I learned that they still smell good after they've dried outside even though they weren't tossed to and fro with a dryer sheet.

Overall, it was a good experience. Yes, my towel looks a little different than it did when I would pull it from the dryer, but it's not as scratchy or stiff as I thought it would be and my skin is very appreciative. I guess this just goes hand in hand with the reality that life over here is a little simpler and a little more basic. And you know what? That's not necessarily a bad thing....