What are the rules?
Where has the "Maytag Man" gone?
This is definitely a “Do you remember . . .” post. On laundry day last week, my husband mentioned that he had some sweats that needed washing. Dark clothes.
“Sure,” I said. “I’ll put them in the last load.”
Ah, the old “rule” evidently still applies in my mind. We wash the light clothes first and dark clothes last. Why? Because back in the wringer-washer days, we used the same water for all the previous loads. (Ew, right?)
That’s the way my mama did it and that’s how she taught me to do it.
I don’t remember the other rules. Maybe you do. Was it sheets before towels, or the other way around, or were they okay together? Seems the only water that was used once had bleach in it. And Dad’s greasy work clothes went after everything else. Unless a rug needed washing.
Another rule: Nothing smells better than sheets dried outside on the clothesline.
Oh, here’s another: Don’t put your fingers too close to the wringer or your whole arm will get squished. That’s what happened to Mrs. Murphy down the block . . . yikes!
Oh, and of course, the most important rule we learned: Girls do laundry. Boys don’t.
That one still applies in our house. But these days that’s by mutual agreement. He makes sure I have air in my tires, gas in my tank, takes the garbage out on time and is in charge of taking care of anything disgusting.
Fair trade, if you ask me.
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May your day bring delightful memories. Thanks for stopping by, reading, commenting and/or sharing my posts. I appreciate you! ❤️❤️
BOOK NEWS: Yesterday while working on book six in the series, MY COUSIN KRISSY, I had an awareness that a particular character was the one who did a particular thing. I was shocked! Also delighted to be reminded once again that the inhabitants of Three Rivers have lives of their own, that they function independently of this author. Which makes my job easy: just watch the story unfold and take notes.
What surprises await me today? I can’t wait to find out.
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My grandmother talked about having a wringer washer.
I always think about the saying "being put through the wringer" I think few would understand that.
I have said that without much thought myself.
Mary, my grandmother also had wringer-washer in her kitchen. Curious silly me tried to put my hand in.