Al Gore recommended not using the hottest setting on the washing machine, so I have already given up 90C for whites. (A lovely side effect is that the strata of deodorant on John's t-shirts doesn't get melted onto them; they have never been more deodorant-free.) I also bought a drying rack to reduce our use of the electric dryer.
I don't think I've used the dryer more than about once a week in the last couple of months.
Of course, the weather here tends to throw a monkey wrench into my laundry plans. We either have a long stretch of cool, wet weather, which means I have to either find room for the rack indoors or use the dryer, or we have unseasonable, unpredictable storms. Recently, we have woken up to sunny, hot weather. Perfect for drying jeans, think I. So I shove the jeans in the washing machine on cold. I drag the wet jeans onto the balcony and arrange them on the drying rack. Thirty minutes later it clouds up. Thirty minutes after that it starts to pour rain. Or, as happened on Saturday, it begins to hail:
I wonder if I have inherited my Grammy's weather-influencing ability. She lived in Houston with my Gramps and had always heard about how dry it was out in West Texas. Alas, every time she visited us in West Texas, it rained. She didn't believe him about the desert conditions.
Hannah really didn't want to go on a class outing on the next-to-last day of school, so she got busy on the Internet looking for tips on rain-making. She spent all of Monday evening in her raincoat and galoshes, shaking her home-made rain-maker and spinning and chanting. Unfortunately, the rain did not hit until *after* the class had reached their outdoor destination. Fortunately, they went back to school early to watch a movie, and Hannah had dry clothes in her backpack.
So the moral of the story is that Mother Nature will always kick you in the proverbial nuts.
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