It sure is summertime now. The days are routinely near or over 100 degrees F, and it’s unclimately humid. M told me today she’d gotten in a muck-sweat within 30 minutes, doing a little work in her yard. Sounds about right to me.
But there are a few it’s-so-*&%^-hot perqs…
…aside from it being Otter Pop season, which is plenty of perq all by its lonesome.
Think: INSTANT LAUNDRY DRYING.
Well, not instant-instant. But thoroughly wet multi-layer canvas, placed outdoors on a rack, is dry in two hours. Soggy beach towels over a chair, in one.
I have been rejoicing in my thoroughly modern washing machine—it has a wool cycle, which shifts the garment from side to side instead of slosh-tumbling it around—by washing all sorts of things. I’m unable to yet rejoice in my thoroughly modern dryer, however, because we didn’t have the right parts on its delivery day and so are in Part Pending Limbo. I’m willing to use my dear, elderly dryer that shrieks whenever I turn it on to the one cycle it’s still willing to operate,
but if I can avoid it, that’s probably a relief to both of us.
Hence everything’s going in the back garden: a little shade, to limit the bleaching (sun-bleaching is dramatic here), away from the walls for a little circulating breeze, and
hey-presto! Bone-dry fabrics!
Yeah, I know. It’s the little things. But I like paying attention to the little things. Heck, I have a good-sized chapbook’s-worth of poems about little things-! Manuscript’s in the mail to a chapbook-publishing contest, and I’ll hear back Novemberish. As one of the state lottery advertisements of my youth always said, you can’t win if you don’t play. Here’s to June’s lottery ticket!
Also, here’s a shout-out to the song I riffed on in the title:
…she gives me chills…