Clean Sheets by Joan Creager
Wednesday, August 26th, 2009
Are you old enough to remember when everybody hung the laundry out to
dry, usually on a Monday morning? In cities and towns people took pride in
having their laundry out first or in having the whitest sheets. On the farm
where I grew up there wasn’t much competition because the clotheslines at
one farm house were too far away from those at the next house to allow easy
comparisons. Those were the “olden days” I guess, and only a few diehards
like me still take pride in hanging laundry out.
Today most people toss sheets from the washer into the dryer and race on
through a fast-paced day. Many have no place to hang laundry outdoors
even if they had time to do it. I had a different slower-lane kind of day. I did
the laundry and made the bed with clean sheets–not just any sheets, but
sheets whipped dry in an early spring breeze, sheets that have billowed
like the sails of a great ship. I wiped off the clotheslines and got out the
clothespin bag I had brought in last fall. Preparing to hang the laundry
outdoors is, for me, a kind of ritual of spring. It lifts my spirit. I like the idea
of using solar energy in the form of sunlight and wind to dry the laundry.
When I bring the sheets in, they smell of fresh air. In a way, carrying sheets
from the clothesline to the house is like bringing the outdoors indoors. Sure,
they have tiny clothespin marks on their corners, but having those ever-so-
fresh-smelling sheets makes such minor blemishes easy to take. I can’t even
see them when the lights are out and I’m lying in bed between those
scrumptious sheets.
In addition to their fresh air aroma, outdoor dried sheets have a fluffed up
texture all their own. They’re not rough, not slick, they just have a special
kind of smooth. In fact, I’ve often thought that line dried sheets are a special
way to say to my family, “I love you.” Stretching out to let those sheets
caress my bare arms and legs is like lavishing love on myself. What a
pleasure! Considering that such ecstasy came free of charge from the sun,
it’s got to be just about the cheapest luxury on earth.
From one laundry day to the next, the sheets loose their clothesline fresh
aroma and their fluffy texture goes flat. But these qualities are easily
renewed. All it takes is another trip through the washing machine and back
on the line for another tussle with the wind and time in the sun. Wind-
whipped sheets are great from spring to autumn, but the pleasure palls
when cold sharp winds come and freeze the sheets to the line, stiff as a
plywood plank. Before that happens I use the dryer to fluff those sheets and
get on with my day like most everyone else.
Would that all aspects of life were as fresh and smooth and clean as sheets
just in from the line. Alas, that’s not the case. When I have a topsy-turvy day
and things keep going wrong, I like to think metaphorically about clean
sheets. If my writing goes awry, I want a clean sheet of paper. If I’m
correcting mistakes in another part of my life, I speak of turning over a new
leaf. I never willingly expose my problems or “hang my dirty laundry in
public.” I much prefer to solve my problems privately without fanfare or
publicity. Literally or metaphorically, I like clean sheets.
This is from Joan’s book, Life in a Slower Lane, used with permission of the author, Joan G. Creager, who owns the copyright. Published 2003 by Virtualbookworm.com Publishing Inc., P. O. Box 9949, College Station, Texas
ISBN 1-58939-374-0. Copies are available from the publisher for $13.95.
