For a while, upon our arrival at Wazoo Farm, I had no dryer. I hung as much as I could fit on the laundry line and then draped socks and T shirts on every available surface. As the days grew rainier and colder, I strung up a line in our sunroom and congratulated myself on introducing humidity to my sad, dry, indoor plants.
We have a dryer now, a huge double-capacity beauty of a machine. I barely think about the luxury as I toss in loads and loads of wet clothes, set the dial and kick up my feet. Often I leave the clothes sitting in the dryer with an easy conscience, rather than mourning a sudden cloudburst.
But now that I have the option of a dryer, I immensely enjoy hanging my clothes and sheets and towels out of doors, though my laundry line is strung inconveniently for anyone who wants to tromp down our hill stairs (my dream: Amish/French laundry line on a pulley system!). Merry has her own stretch of line on which to clip up clothes, and this fits right into her Laura world.
Yes, we are still Ma and Pa. Elsepth is Elspeth-Carrie or Elspeth-Laura though Elephant was Laura this morning. The funniest part yet about our Laura Pioneer experience occurred yesterday, when Pet and Patty (who looked a bit like a blue Subaru) took us into Mancato (Morgantown, WV) so we could visit the doctor and Sam's Club. Since my right breast is like a sack full of marbles, we take trips to Motown every so often so it can get far more attention than it deserves. After much whinnying from Pet and Patty along the way, Merry insisted on accompanying me to the surgeon's office where we waited, and waited, and waited some more so the surgeon could, in approximately 3-5 minutes, plump me like a pillow, shrug unconcernedly, and send me on my way.
After this Pet and Patty dashed like crazy horses down to the parking lot of Sam's Club so Merry and I could wander around the aisles filling our cart with impossibly huge items. Martin was running late for his class so the entire Laura Pioneer crew sat down at a plastic table and ate a huge, greasy pizza and shared an immorally large cup of Coke. ("It was like Sam Walton himself handed me that pizza," Martin confided, eyes glistening.)
Then Pet and Patty blundered through the rain and fog to take us back to Waynesburg.
After this trip, I was ready to trade the blue Subaru for a team of horses and big box stores and busy surgeons for a country store and a visiting doctor.
Will I trade in my dryer and go with the line entirely? Probably not. But sometimes I wish I could.
