Day 266 of 365 - Laundry Memories
This morning, I actually got out my ironing board and iron, a rare occurrence these days. Now that we have hot weather, I'm bringing more capris and shorts into circulation. Some cotton blends required ironing. As I was standing there at the ironing board, my memories took me back to laundry days of my youth.
In our house, we had a short laundry chute from the main floor bathroom to the basement laundry area. My dad had built a large wooden receiving box which sat below the chute. That's where laundry day started, hauling out the accumulated piles to sort and treat if needed. You were never quite sure what you would find in that box. Some unexpected items ended up there.
I do actually remember when my mom still used a wringer washer. That was a time consuming process, having to wash, drain, rinse and then feed every item through the rollers of the ringers. The next step was hauling laundry baskets of wet clothing up the stairs and out to the back porch, where there was a platform beneath the pulley clothes line. Everything got pinned to the lines with wooden pegs to hang for drying. We even hung some things out in the winter, if it wasn't snowing, or on lines across the basement ceiling otherwise.
After hours of drying in sunlight and wind, in came the clothes for folding and ironing. I loved that fresh smell! Our oldest sister had ironing duties for a long time. She would set the ironing board up in the living room and play her vinyl record albums while doing her chore. Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison, Bobby Curtola and Bobby Vee were regulars played. Later on, ironing became one of the chores of us younger girls. Then it was our turn to play our music, depending on who was at home. It was nothing too wild, just artists like The Righteous Brothers, James Taylor and Carole King.
At some point during those years, we got an automatic washer and dryer, which was a huge time saver. Some things, like sheets, were still hung on the clothesline. But, ironing was still a pretty regular requirement. Even though some permanent press fabrics were being used for some items, they needed ironing if they were left in a basket too long. Ironing other synthetic fabrics was tricky and more than one item was ruined by scorching with a too hot iron. I mostly enjoyed ironing, especially if there was no rush. There is something rather meditative about it for me.
It continued to be a regular practice over my life until recent years when we moved to our apartment. Here, it has felt like a nuisance to pull out and set up the ironing board and iron. If clothes are hung up as soon as they come out of the dryer, there are few which actually require ironing now. But, I still enjoyed it this morning. It was satisfying to have a small stack of smooth and folded items to put away.
There's something sort of redemptive about the process of doing laundry, perhaps more so when I was younger, than now when it happens in a very contained environment. We started with the grunge in the dreary basement, cleaned it and brought it up into the light of day and fresh air. That freshness was brought back inside and amplified through the touch of a very warm iron. Smooth, clean clothes went back into drawers and closets for another fresh start. Now, that's satisfying.
In our house, we had a short laundry chute from the main floor bathroom to the basement laundry area. My dad had built a large wooden receiving box which sat below the chute. That's where laundry day started, hauling out the accumulated piles to sort and treat if needed. You were never quite sure what you would find in that box. Some unexpected items ended up there.
I do actually remember when my mom still used a wringer washer. That was a time consuming process, having to wash, drain, rinse and then feed every item through the rollers of the ringers. The next step was hauling laundry baskets of wet clothing up the stairs and out to the back porch, where there was a platform beneath the pulley clothes line. Everything got pinned to the lines with wooden pegs to hang for drying. We even hung some things out in the winter, if it wasn't snowing, or on lines across the basement ceiling otherwise.
After hours of drying in sunlight and wind, in came the clothes for folding and ironing. I loved that fresh smell! Our oldest sister had ironing duties for a long time. She would set the ironing board up in the living room and play her vinyl record albums while doing her chore. Elvis Presley, Roy Orbison, Bobby Curtola and Bobby Vee were regulars played. Later on, ironing became one of the chores of us younger girls. Then it was our turn to play our music, depending on who was at home. It was nothing too wild, just artists like The Righteous Brothers, James Taylor and Carole King.
At some point during those years, we got an automatic washer and dryer, which was a huge time saver. Some things, like sheets, were still hung on the clothesline. But, ironing was still a pretty regular requirement. Even though some permanent press fabrics were being used for some items, they needed ironing if they were left in a basket too long. Ironing other synthetic fabrics was tricky and more than one item was ruined by scorching with a too hot iron. I mostly enjoyed ironing, especially if there was no rush. There is something rather meditative about it for me.
It continued to be a regular practice over my life until recent years when we moved to our apartment. Here, it has felt like a nuisance to pull out and set up the ironing board and iron. If clothes are hung up as soon as they come out of the dryer, there are few which actually require ironing now. But, I still enjoyed it this morning. It was satisfying to have a small stack of smooth and folded items to put away.
There's something sort of redemptive about the process of doing laundry, perhaps more so when I was younger, than now when it happens in a very contained environment. We started with the grunge in the dreary basement, cleaned it and brought it up into the light of day and fresh air. That freshness was brought back inside and amplified through the touch of a very warm iron. Smooth, clean clothes went back into drawers and closets for another fresh start. Now, that's satisfying.
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