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There’s a knack to drying sheets on the line predicated on the immediate assumption that the wet clothes have been removed from the washing machine post haste. If you’ve allowed them to sit there too long upon the completion of the wash cycle, well, let’s just say that does not bode well for crisp, flat, smooth sheets. Not fussy about wrinkled, crinkly sheets on your bed? Then by all means, proceed. Otherwise, I’d run them through the wash one more time if I were you and then – so you don’t have to do this again – I’d grab them quickly this time around.

Empty the sheets into the laundry basket. Nudge open the screen door leading to the backyard and deposit the sheets on the ground in the center of the clothesline. Unless you’ve been remiss in storing your clothespins in one of those handy holders that loop over the line allowing for easy reaching into and retrieving of said pins, you’ll have to finagle handling the sheets and grabbing these necessary accoutrements as best you can.

I like to begin with the flat sheet. Now, one can attach it so the folded crease is affixed to the line, leaving the fabric to unfurl and billow in the breeze or reverse the process and leave the fold to hang at the bottom. Depending on the ferocity of the wind (and your supply of pins), stagger the pin attachments to the line in even increments allowing enough of them to firmly secure the sheet and keep it from breaking loose and ending up in the neighbors yard.

Next up the pesky fitted sheet. Admittedly, I just wing it with these guys although I do tend to opt for the fold-at-the-bottom method of deployment. The pillow cases, so easily managed, are the best part of hanging wet sheets outdoors to dry. For these babies, I prefer to attach them so they are open at the bottom. When you are finished, hang any other sets of sheets in the same manner unless you’ve determined a better way to do so from your experience with the first load.

Now stand back and admire your work. Don’t they look lovely swaying softly in the breeze? If the winds have picked up a bit since you hung them to dry, make sure your pin coverage is adequate and make adjustments accordingly. Oh. You did check the weather forecast, did you not? Or at least allow yourself a quick glance skyward before deciding to go au natural as opposed to throwing them into the dryer? You sure as heck don’t want them to get rained on. So make note of that for the next go-round if you’ve failed to take the appropriate precautions.

So. Everything went swimmingly. The sun was shining, the breeze was delightful and now your sheets are dry.

Lucky you. You get to make the bed. Always a ‘fun’ chore, amiright? No matter. For your reward, you’ll have fresh-smelling sheets to look forward to when you crawl into bed tonight, the captivating sensory enchantment of which lasts about five minutes. I hope it was worth it.

Daily Prompt: Unfurl

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I came. I saw. I journalled. And I continue to do so, joyfully.

Actually, ever since I retired earlier this year – March 15th, the Ides of March in case you’d like to tuck that date away to commemorate my one-year-anniversary come 2018 – I’ve been doing a lot more writing in my journal. Or journals, rather. I keep a small one in my purse, one in the wicker tray I use to house all my reading materials for bedtime perusal, one in the car, one in my going-to-Barnes-and-Noble backpack and a spiral-bound notebook that I originally started for writing Morning Pages. I’ve applied my own twist to the practice, however, writing whenever the heck I feel like it during the day – I call it my Daily Pages – and writing anywhere from just a paragraph, maybe a page or two or even the prescribed three pages (or more), in longhand, to explore whatever it is I want to say or express or document as to what’s going on in my life.

Recently, I purchased a set of multi-color fine-tip markers to jazz up, enliven, highlight and otherwise amplify my reading and writing experiences. Yellow highlighters are also quite useful, maybe not so much for journaling but certainly for noting key passages in the books and magazines I collect (not unlike the typewriters I once accumulated over the years but that’s another story). If the written word is part of the equation, so too are these brown laser-enhanced optical wonders located mere inches from my hairline and any colorful means possible to capture and celebrate the beauty and inspiration and joy I so delight in when I am both reading and writing.

Some may chafe at the suggestion but I enjoy looking back every now and then, re-reading the journals I’ve written, gleaning clues sometimes as to what year we went to Mackinac Island (2012) or whether we hosted Thanksgiving in 2015 (we did). It is often amusing to read about how annoyed I’d been over something that had happened at work but my self-righteous indignation provides no clues whatsoever as to what the offending situation actually was and I’m left to guess as to what I was even referring to. Must have been really important, eh?

As much as I enjoy keeping a journal now as an adult, I’m surprised I never kept a diary as a young girl. I do recall owning one and I’m sure I wrote a few entries here and there. Some women (perhaps men too but I can’t speak to that) still have every diary and journal they’ve written in since they were kids. I think that’s nice. While that’s not an option for me, I’ll do the next best thing and save (and cherish) the ones that I do have and will continue to write – and read! – as long as those two brown apertures of mine are still blessedly able to do so. Write on, peoples!