Every now and then, it is suggested that my portrayal of life on the farm here in Beautiful British Columbia is perhaps a little too idyllic. I must admit that I'm not one to air our dirty laundry and it must be a wee bit tempting to wonder what our life is like. . if you could be a peeping tom.
I imagine you all to be at one end of this long tunnel peering at me and mine squinting to get a glimpse of our reality. You've all been warned. . .dirty laundry in this post.
When we moved to the farm back in 1994 my beloved continued his full time work at Safeway while he learned how to be a farmer. I worked in the barns in the morning gathering eggs, and our two boys aged 13 and 15 gathered eggs in the afternoon and on weekends. This resulted in many loads of dirty chore clothes.
My beloved would check the chickens before he went to work and then again after work and often spent his evenings doing repairs and general cleaning. His chore clothes were far dustier and dirtier than mine and the boys and so he decided all on his own, that he would throw his dirty laundry in the washing machine himself so that the clothes wouldn't a) be strewn on the laundry room floor and b) no one else would need to touch them. He would begin the laundry by putting his load into the washer, adding the detergent and starting the cycle and I would then move it to the dryer and do the folding and putting away.
I pointed out to him several times that his socks didn't wash properly because his method of removing them left them bunched. I would usually take them out of the wash, and throw them in with another load for their second proper wash. This is how we have been doing it here in the bungalow ever since. It never really dawned on me that this should or could be addressed again. After all, everyone that knows me already suggests that my work load is less than strenuous and couldn't I at the very least. . . do my husbands laundry without complaining.