This after I had to do all the stuff you have to do to get dirty clothes to the post-washing folding stage. And when I say “folding” I mean untangling the heap and shaking out individual pieces and folding them-barely-sufficiently so they’ll stay upright in the floor stack that is my clean work clothes stash. It occurred to me that were I dealing strictly with visual input, I couldn’t tell my dirty work clothes from my clean work clothes. Sniffing them is a dead giveaway. In winter my dirty work clothes smell like wood smoke. I spend all winter craving bacon and I think it’s because all winter I smell smoky. Not as good as bacon, but close enough to get my brain working in that direction. My shop is winter cozy because of The PIG. The guy who built my shop stove from well casing always called his creation The PIG. It stands on 4 squatty feet, the stove pipe is the tail and there’s a ring door pull snout. PIG, SMOKE, BACON. I’m hungry.
I can point to sections of my work clothes and tell you what I was working on when a particular stain was created. Got some orange on the stuff I’m wearing now. Just finished the Mahatma. Orange was his favorite color. Mine too. Stains are evocative. That purple? Stove hood re-do from a year or so ago.
I don’t get out enough.
I don’t do laundry except in a pinch. It’s man’s work at the Holler. But he’s away and even when I’m by myself, I can only go so long without doing laundry. I opened the dryer to take out clothes and a sheet had wrapped itself around jeans so tightly the whole thing looked like a second grade Halloween art project ghost. It was so weird. Of course the jeans were still damp. I unfurled the whole thing and put it all back in for more minutes. I threw in another dryer sheet because I do have my laundry standards. The throw rug was damp too but I just tossed it over the shower curtain rod to dry. I’ve seen that done.
I’m efficient. I did all that stuff in one load.