the washing machine that the laundry benefactors gave us works very well. the dryer is in need of a switch or something before it will be in running order. believe me, though, i'm not complaining. to get a washer and dryer for about the thirty bucks it will take to get the switch it needs, well, you just can't beat that with a big, heavy stick. anyway, being dryerless hasn't been a problem, considering that it has been hotter than hell's half acre here lately. i wash a load, hang it on the line, and in five minutes, it's dry. in six minutes it spontaneously combusts, so i do have to keep an eye out or we'll be going through an awful lot of underwear.
so the other day (country lingo for "some ambiguous day that could be any time since i was born") i got up to another bug zapper day, so hot that even the dragon flies were gasping, and i thought, "perfect. i can do half the wash today and it will dry with no trouble." i also thought, "crap, i promised joe i'd try to do some mowing. maybe i'll drop a bowling ball on my toe to get out of it," but that's another story. so i washed and hung two loads. they dried. i rescued them from the line before all that was left was a fine ash ghost in the shape of the former garment. i washed a third load, lost a third of my body weight in sweat while hanging it out, and charlie didn't even fight me about going inside for once. " 'ot,' " he said. "yessireebob," i said, " 'ot' doesn't cover it. soon there will be spontaneous fission and we will all be gone in the blink of an eye." perhaps i'm overstating it just a tad.
anyway, we went inside and were watching baby einstein for the three thousand seven hundred eighty third time (that day), when i heard a noise i couldn't figure out. it seemed to be coming from the stove, so i was on my way past the kitchen window to see what it could be when i happened to glance up and find that a torrential downpour was blowing in at a thirty degree angle under my porch roof. so much for dry laundry. but in this case, i wasn't going to complain. for one thing, it saved me simultaneously from having to mow grass in the nuclear heat and from having to befall bowling ball related injuries. for another thing, we depend on rainwater to fill our cistern so that we have water for washing, flushing, and showering. some people drink it too, but i haven't quite gotten over the possible amoeba content yet.
the cistern phenomenon gives the lie to the common city slicker misconception that kentucky hill folk are too dumb to come in out of the rain. in fact, they are normal people of normal intelligence. it is simply the fact that, with a cistern, you need to let your roof "wash" for a few minutes before dashing into violent thunderstorms to flip the switch that reroutes the gutter catchment system so your cistern will fill. as a matter of fact, i believe this drill has bumped your average "country bumpkin" up a few notches in the skill arena because they have learned to predict lightening strikes and dodge golf ball sized hail. city slickers just stay inside. what's that about?
so i let the roof wash, then sprinted into the sheeting rain, flipping the switch just in time for the rain to dwindle to a trickle and then piddle out completely. if it hadn't been for the fact that the sky predicted more rain on its way, i would've been inventing new swear words at that point. but i thought i'd better wait to call down the wrath of the almighty and see if it rained enough to fill our cistern up at least a reasonable degree. and it did. in fact, it rained on and off all afternoon, which meant three things: 1) we were good for water for another couple of weeks. 2) i had a legitimate reason for not mowing grass. 3) a trip to the grungiest place on earth-- no, not a honky tonk bathroom. the laundromat.
good times.
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