Laundry Day

Laundry Day doesn’t come around very often in this house, and when it does it rarely goes out on the line. You see, my line is tucked away in some long forgotten corner of my garden… right outside the kitchen window, and as I don’t spend much time standing at my sink (washing the dishes is only slightly less horrific than doing laundry) and staring out of my kitchen window I have a terrible habit of forgetting that I ever hung it up there. A week later I’ll glance out of the window whilst I’m filling up the kettle and I’ll notice the funny looking collection of rags that someone seems to have left on my patio, complete with bird poop, sun fading and the occasional huntsman… oh wait, that’s actually the entire contents of my wardrobe, oops!

So my clothes generally dry on a clothes horse within the confines of my garage, never to be kissed by the sun… or pooped on by a bird. A the little spiders that make their home on my clothes line can continue to enjoy themselves, doing whatever it is that little spiders do.

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