You May Not Be Able To Tell...But...

I am working very hard. Can't You tell?

If you were here, you could hear the churning and whirring coming from the dishwasher.
That, my friends, is the equivalent of me standing by the sink elbow deep in hot suds with an aching back, blowing wisps of hair out of my eyes.

If it weren't for the modern marvel of the dishwasher, I would be battling dried tomato sauce or chocolate syrup or whatever stubbornly clings to a cup, saucer or bowl. The fact that the dishwasher is doing it for me doesn't negate my efforts because the job is getting done...and I am, therefore, entitled - guilt free - to sit down here, in my jammies, tapping away to you.

Next, a load of clothes will enter the washing machine dirty and emerge clean and fresh, ready to be popped into dryer from which they will reappear dry and, if folded quickly, nearly wrinkle-free. This is, obviously, the equivalent of two hours (at least) of back-breaking labour. The kind once done by my grandma in the deep tub of our kitchen sink. She actually had one of those old-fashioned wringers that would squeeze out the water and would then hang each item on a line in the backyard.Grandma's ancestors would beat laundry against the rocks of the stream that ran behind the hut...therefore, I am actually doing this very work while I sit back with my foot up.

Take this to heart, women who feel you must accomplish other things while your appliances are plugged in and doing their jobs. That is pure nonsense. Put up those feet, pop a bon bon, grab that copy of Cosmo, put a fresh topcoat on your pedicure or just tilt your head like a bird and stare out the window to your hearts content - you are hard at work and don't let anyone tell you different!

Vintage Rustic Washboard Print by Miss P Photography via Etsy


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