I've been thinking about laundry all day. Kind of hard not to think about it when you're up to your ears in it. Why is it that something so "not difficult" can be so difficult? I mean, it requires very little talent, limited strength, and minimal stress; yet it's so hard and unpopular! Maybe we dislike it because it's mundane.
It didn't used to be so mundane. I remember when it was a full day's work. We grumble about Mondays now, but to me, Monday used to mean "Laundry Day."
First, the fire was kindled under an iron cauldron which was brimming with water. Know how the water got there? Yep. You guessed it! Buckets, after buckets, were carried from the spring-fed spigot by tender, brown arms.
Once the water was finally boiling, those same arms carried buckets of the boiling liquid to a covered porch where the smell of bleach and lye, mingled with sweat, left a lasting impression.
The Amish mother that I helped frequently, thought it was her mission in life to break the spoiled, city girl. I'll never forget the moment she announced that, from then on, I was to clean all the dirty diapers-- by hand. Glancing at a 5-gallon bucket full of the week's feces, just soaking in bleach water, my sensitive stomach did a few loop-de-loops. She was joking, right? Wrong.
When the diapers were scrubbed to her satisfaction, they were dumped into the James' washer which was filled with boiling water and a bar of Lye soap. Then the torture began. Using the hand-agitator, my task master insisted on 200 strokes (one-way), per load!
Next came the hand wringer, which was conveniently located between the wash and rinse tubs.
Wringing the laundry once after washing, then again after rinsing, it was finally ready to hang on the wash-line.
Later that afternoon, a week's worth of clothing, diapers, and bedding were removed, folded, and put away before bed.
Ah, the "simple" life!
(Now why am I complaining about laundry?)
For more on our experience living with the Amish, please check out my previous post: Ah, the Simple Life!
Disclaimer: When I refer to myself as a spoiled, city-kid, I'm aware that this is relative. Compared to the Amish kids, my siblings and I knew nothing; but compared to most of the kids our age back in the "city" we were well-trained and not the least bit spoiled. (All except me, the squeamish one. =)
ReplyDeleteThanks - needed this when I am about 6 loads behind and have to sort it all just to find my dirty workout clothes so I can wear them 1 more time tomorrow morning (just don't stand to close to me tomorrow!)
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