my new rotary clothes line

We took possession of our new house on Friday, and yes, it has a rotary clothes line. Not sure if it's a genuine Hills Hoist, but it's in good nick and will do the job nicely. It's probably where the extension will go, but G is confident we can move it. I'm pretty sure it could be moved further into in the sunny north west corner of the yard, to be surrounded by fruit trees and other garden bits.

From our backyard you can see into quite a few other backyards and it's clothesline city. Very nice.

We've starting talking about what to do with the laundry and I'm pleased to report that it will involve a stainless steel sink, set into a marine grade plywood bench. All re-used from what is already there. No more mouldy concrete sink! And I think we'll get a front loader washing machine. Not only more space and water efficient but way less linty clothes. Yay!

we've been hung out to dry

Gerard left this image on my computer desktop the other day. He likes retro metal music at the moment and there's often something of that ilk in the car stereo when I start driving. Which I immediately change to something more girlie and soothing. Not that women can't like metal, I mean I once painted a kitchen red to the strains of Metallica, which I guess is a soft metal.

I'm hoping that these weren't real babies, even for a moment before being airbrushed in. It's really rather a disturbing image. Those twigs holding the line up look brittle, meaning the line could fall down at any moment  and those pegs would hurt the baby's little toes.

The lyrics explain the cover somewhat...

We are the damned of all the world
With sadness in our hearts
The wounded of the wars
We've been hung out to dry
You didn't want us anyway
And now we're making up our minds
You tell us how to run our lives
We run for youthanasia

Despite the ghastly kind of image, I do like her slippers. The basket is also of exactly the same kind that was used in the bank advertisment I posted before. Funny how the mundane act of hanging laundry is used to express both abandonment and a happy cosy family setup. Maybe I should start categories for good laundry, bad laundry etc. It all depends on your point of view I geuss.

Some trivia here, according Wikepedia, the Megadeth album Youthanasia, was the first CD to contain a sticker directing purchasors to an internet site. Back in 1994.

organised people

In my mind, I'm not what I'd call an organised person. But I am really, sort of. I fill out forms neatly, answer all the questions, provide the right documentation and meet deadlines. However the neatness is a thin veil for the chaos beneath. I have paperwork all over the place and I'm always searching for it when I need it. Not saying that I lose it, well not as a rule, but I'm not so organised that I get it right, all the time. Mind you, the reason we were back at the bank today had more to do with their lack of organisation than mine.

While we were waiting to see the manager, Gerard pointed to a poster and said, there's a good washing picture. And he's put another on my desktop, perhaps he's trying to tell me something. Anyway, there's a way that I like to hang my washing, but it's not like this. And like my paperwork, my laundry is more about meeting deadlines than about being organised for the sake of it.

But I know what this ad is trying appeal to. You can sort your money into piles like your laundry and it will make you feel better. Which for most people, I'm guessing is really just a veneer of organisation. And it's no skin off the banks nose. Still, I'm glad we seem to have sorted that paperwork out. The washing, even with rain, was a doddle compared.

and they kept their handkerchiefs in cardboard boxes

Grace has a snuffly cold. It's come on very suddenly, just this morning she said, mummy, I've got a snotty nose. There have been lots of requests for face washings and cream under her nose. As in zinc nappy cream, why? Possibly because of the no blood, no bandaid rule we've instituted. There's also been hankies. She hasn't quite mastered blowing or wiping her nose with a handkerchief, but this winter I reckon.

We've also started reading When We Were Very Young, by AA Milne, 1924, in a nice hardback reissue with the original drawings but coloured rather than the black and white line drawings we had as a child. Not original but it's so nicely done, I think it's an improvement. I loved this book as a child and I still remember lots of the words. And there's handkerchief carrying foxes.

Once upon a time there were three little foxes
Who didn't wear stockings, and they didn't wear sockses,
But they all had handkerchiefs to blow their noses,
And they kept their handkerchiefs in cardboard boxes.

Anyway, at playgroup today, as I whipped out the hankie to wipe Grace's nose and go through the teaching process, one of the other mothers gave me one of those looks. The OMG she's using a hankie, oh how disgusting, eeew, look. I know that look, as a hankie lover I've seen it many times. But can I just say this, if you wash a used handkerchief in laundry detergent in the washing machine, dry them in the sun and then if you're feeling really houswifely, iron them, there's not a germ that would survive. Truly. And they are so much more pleasant on the nose, or eyes if you're crying, than tissues. Really.

choreplay

I found this gem in the Sunday Life section of The Age a couple of weeks ago.

"Choreplay" is a term born after research found that having a partner do the laundry, unload the dishwasher or vacuum the living room doesn't just put women in the mood (for sex I assume), it also reduces stress and improves their general health. 

You don't say? And there's that phrase again down at the end, domestic gods... What is the world coming to?

In other news, there's been an increased level of washing and other housework here the last few days. The house had reached a level of filth neither of us could abide, and we have guests arriving to sleep on the foldout and on the floor. Musty bedlinen has been washed and aired and last night as I sat at my computer and listened to the thunder and rain, I thought, oh well there's washing on the line but, yeah it's raining. Rain is good. Sheets wet, can't be faffed, will deal with it tommorrow. Imagine my delight when I saw that G had thought (and acted), with no prompting from me, to bring the washing in. How cool is that?