Nobody in South Florida hangs their laundry on a clothes line. There is just too much humidity, your clothes will never dry. If you hang out anything to dry, you will make it rain. Well, my little antique house came complete with an antique clothes line. Made from some half rotten logs, nailed together, half of which were lying on the ground. The line itself, is some kind of ancient wire, kinked and twisted, with rotting clothes pins still attached. Being the self-sufficient modern woman that I am, I get my hammer and screwdriver and go to work. I have to prop the logs back up into a standing position, and reattach the cross ties. These are attached with huge nails that I cannot remove. OK, time to find some muscle.
Our handy friend Jim, drops by and gives me some help with the nails. I wait until he leaves before attempting to stretch the old wire back up between the posts. No need to embarrass myself in front of the stronger sex. This takes me a couple of hours of untwisting and yanking, but I did it. I pat myself on the back. Maybe I can adapt to this new life. Never mind that anything heavier than a wet T-shirt makes the line droop to the ground.
Labels: colorado, Two City Girls