SHIRTS ON THE CLOTHESLINE

The shirts and shorts and pants are warm from the clothesline. I like clotheslines.
I didn’t get the clothesline to help the environment, though that would have been an excellent reason to get a clothesline. I got it because I could remember the way the sheets smelled on my childhood bed, fresh and clean like life beginning all over again. I wanted to smell that smell as a grownup. I wanted my kids to know that comforting fragrance.
Even though I had a clothesline I kept the electric dryer. I remembered gathering the clothes in on rainy days, wetter than they had been before the storm. I recalled brushing past them where they dripped from the line in the kitchen, on the route between the stove and the table. I remembered blowing on freezing fingers, unpegging frosted towels as stiff as boards, and Mother saying, “Careful not to break them.”
The streets of San Jose Del Cabo, when we were there, wound their way past tiny Mexican huts with roosters crowing among the electric washing machines and fridges in their backyards. The breeze rustled bright Mexican shirts on the clotheslines. San Hose Del Cabo, according to the brochures, has 360 days of annual sunshine.
Just down the road, along the golf course, along the oceanfront, are the shiny new condos own by Canadians. We stayed in a lovely one, two bedrooms, two baths, cool floors of ceramic, in suite laundry, balconies to die for, pools and hot tubs. In a good Canadian condo there will inevitably be rules and there were rules at ours. Just a few rules out of consideration for your neighbours. Please use the electric dryer provided in your suite. Never hang towels or any other laundry on your balconies.
Back here at home, even on this fine day, I timble the socks and underwear in the dryer. It takes only a hsort time to dry them, with all the big things hanging outside. I am not sure how pleased my neighbours would be to see them, and yes, I am a little too lazy to hang them out. Bringing in the shirts, so effortlessly dried on this magnificent July day, I reflect on our half-hearted Canadian attempts to assist the environment, and I wonder when we will come to our senses and help the Mexicans by letting people hang towels on the balcony.