Things like dry clean only tags.
Pooh. I don't pay attention to tags. I wash almost everything. Except my wool winter coat. I won't wash that.
But everything else is fair game. Most of the time it comes out just fine. Especially if you hang it to dry on a windy, blowy day.
I got it all hung out to dry in no time. Well, now that I think about it, I had to hang it twice.
I forgot to make sure the end of the line was pulled all the way away from the house. I ran out of clothesline with only two pieces of laundry left to hang.
I couldn't quite reach the line from the patio so I had to pull it all the way back, take it down, pull the end away from the house, and then re-hang it all.
That took a little time. No wonder our ancestors went to bed so early. They worked hard during the day.
But I'm so glad I had to do it twice.
Because the wind picked up and the clothes started to dance.
It was a soft dance at first, but then it picked up and things really started flying wildly.
Except for that black hand painted t-shirt from France.
That shirt wouldn't billow for anything. The French are known for being difficult.
I can say that because I'm part French.
I sat in the rocking chair with my camera, snapping picture after picture of blowing, billowing pieces of fabric.
I sat there for a half hour.
What a joy.
Thanks, God, for slowing me down to enjoy the moment.