Fresh and hot
The dryer does its thing, spinning round and round. Without doing that other thing: drying. Our clothes enjoy the ride, and when it stops, they tumble out, damp and dizzy, begging for another go.
We used to indulge them in this endless game. Then we pulled the plug. We snapped: Go play outside. Lining up the clothes on a clothesline called for shopping and tying and drooping and retying. Plus untwisting the wet tangle of arms and legs.
Hanging limp on the line, the clothes grumbled, isn’t as fun as cavorting in the machine. Still, they held fast to their pins all day in the sun, and all night in the deluge. In the morning, sodden and sunken to mudlevel, they achieved a breakthrough. They had deployed the old-time technology to time travel, reverting to an era when they were neither dry nor clean. It should have been impressive. But wasn’t.
Perhaps we need to study up on the lowtech lifestyle. Right after a grilled cheese as toasty, hot and heartening as flannels fresh from the dryer — one that works.