I am proud to admit that, with the helpful peer presure from the environmentalist up the road and the rising cost of heating oil this winter, we air dried our dirty laundry inside on clothes lines that hung from our beams in the great room during the cold months of November, December, January, February, and March. The wet clothes actually acted as a natural humidifier during our dry days, which helped with our chapped asses and hands all winter long. But boy am I glad that the weather has changed for the better and the fresh warm breeze can dry our dirty laundry now. Today was the first day I could hang clothes on the line. I must say there is nothing that compares to bed sheets dried in the open breeze and if you can't take my word for it, you have to ask my friend E who swears by it. Please try it! For the earth's sake. I can understand not wanting to dry your towels, or even your clothes in the fresh air. Who wants to wrap themselves in some starchy, stiff, hard, unabsorbent sheet of cowhide? I get that. But the sheets on your bed? Just try it once. And you tell me, after that night of sleep, whether you slept better than you've ever slept before. You tell me, after you've sniffed that fresh sunshine all night long, whether there is anything better. I double dog dare you.
Well, I don't know where the phrase "air your dirty laundry" came from but I definitely think about it whenever I hang our laundry on the line. It's not like we have a hundred visitors up on the hill everyday, but every now and again the UPS man or a house of representative wanna-a-be comes up the driveway. I realize it's a phrase that's more appropriate for a party or something. It's what you're supposed to say when your spouse says some incriminating fact about you that you didn't really want anyone to know. "Oh c'mon honey, do we really need to air our dirty laundry?" (Thanks for telling everyone that I can belch like a man. I really wanted everyone to know that about me. Thanks)
When I was hanging the laundry today, I was feeling grateful that it was our daughter's dirty laundry we were hanging on the line in the glorious sunshine. Her's was a safe introduction to the world; I think it should be a slow progession into Paul Bunyan's dirty boxer shorts or my tattered Jockeys. I think the world will be grateful. I mean, look at all the spring colors. Can you guess what her favorite color is? I think the propane delivery guy would have smiled...after all it is Spring...and we have to celebrate it.