Lovember: Hanging Out the Washing

I love fresh air. I prefer it cold and dry, but other than when it's blisteringly hot I'm happy just out in it.

I love the smell of clothes and sheets when they've been hung outside and how that smell changes with the seasons. I love the meditative pegging out, and the often frantic dashes to rescue it before it ends up wetter than it was in the washing machine.

I love that there is always time for a quick hello and giggle about some nonsense or other with my neighbour. And I love seeing the houses further down the street all doing the same, just quietly getting on with the humdrum of day-to-day life.

I'm particularly loving the fact that I've cast aside the tyranny of ironing. I've always ironed everything. Always. I thought that the sky would fall in and my family would feel unloved if I didn't. Turns out nobody died after all. And I've got time to spend doing important things with important people.

Like playing Uno with the boys after tea. And chatting to a chum after they've gone to bed. And maybe even writing my CV and looking beyond the ironing board.