What's ON My Line?

I was standing outside, coffee in hand, enjoying the warmth of the sun, the freshness of the breeze, the chirping of the birds, the flapping of the granny panties… yep, laundry’s out = winter’s over. I’ve never needed a thermometer in my window to follow the changing seasons. I can gauge the temperature instantly by whether or not my neighbor has laundry on his line. When I first moved into this house, the man next door (a truly lovely retired fellow) made it a point to clarify to me that he’s always been responsible for the laundry in their house. He explained, in great detail, that he and his wife had raised quite a brood of children and that they had alternated their work schedules (she on days, he on nights) so that they needed very little childcare. Apparently, some of the “woman’s work” had become his domain – including laundry. I must say, he threw himself into the job with abandon. They have not one but TWO clotheslines in their yard. Anyway, he seemed to feel I needed an explanation for his hauling the tighty-whities out into the yard every day. Don’t get me wrong – I love my clothesline. Nothing smells more wonderful than line-dried sheets on the beds. I truly feel bad for those folks who live in communities where clotheslines are “outlawed.” I get why. I know they detract from the stature of the subdivision, the class of the condominiums, the beauty of the bungalows… but, hell, they can be so darn amusing! I’m always amazed at what people are willing to hang on their lines. For instance, let’s consider my backyard neighbor. She’s really something. Last year, she dried trash bags on her line. Yes, that’s right – trash bags – regularly. I still haven’t figured out the reason. My best guess is that she’s an avid gardener and uses a lot of them. Perhaps washing and drying them makes them reusable? I don’t know – I can’t imagine asking the trash guy if he wouldn’t mind leaving the empty bags on the curb, along with the cans, but to each his own. Oh… and there was also a shower curtain/tablecloth/muumuu that fluttered out there for over a month. I think it got fed up being forgotten because the last time I saw it, it had wrapped itself so tightly around the lines that it seemed to be trying to snap them. Wherever it is now, I hope it’s appreciated. We also had a great “laundry neighbor” when I was growing up. I still remember my father’s booming laughter and a “what the HELL is she doing?!?” about the lady next door. We all gathered around the kitchen window only to witness what could best be described as a "Hanes Hurricane." The lady of the house had covered their whole back lawn with underwear. Row upon row of her husband’s briefs and her panties. My father’s curiousity swelled to the point of calling out to her, “Hey Rolande… what’s going on over there?” She told him she was bleaching them in the sun. I never understood why hanging them on the line wouldn’t have accomplished the same thing. I personally wouldn’t want to find out, in any way, shape or form, what might have decided to crawl up out of the lawn to lie in wait in those undies. * shudder * I also vividly remember the day my mom decided to wash all the old dolls she had kept from my sister’s and my childhood. She painstakingly bathed each doll, cleaning off years of storage dust and grime… and then promptly hung about a dozen of ‘em, naked on the clothesline - by their hair! Walking around the corner and coming face to face with THAT scene is about as heart-stopping as any horror movie. If you’re looking for something to do one day soon, grab a friend, take a walk and play a rousing round of “What’s ON My Line.” Over the years, I’ve learned that someone in the neighborhood has secured new employment (Dickies on the job!), shops at Victoria’s Secret (Dickie’s gonna do the job!), or has had a baby (Dickie DID the job), just by what they hang out to dry. Have fun and leave a comment or drop me an email to let me know what you see!