First Published on 06/17/2015
I was going to build a clothesline at Doghouse this afternoon. Been needing one for years. I’d planned to write my column in short order this morning, then work on that line.
Nothing doing. I’ve been staring at the world around me, hovering over this keyboard since seven this morning. It’s going on four P.M. now. No clothesline today and I’ll be lucky if I get a column for this week. My mind has drawn blanks. All blanks. Just aimless thoughts not fit to wrap enough words around to fill my allotted space.
Friday afternoon I mowed lawns. Dusty, dirty. Circled a couple trees wrong way around and got covered with blown back dust for my thoughtlessness. I needed a bath before supper. This time of year a bath means my bath rock in Moore’s Run just off Doghouse’s deck. If I need to be beautiful for some reason, I can always use Big House’s shower with accoutrements, but just to get cleaned up, relaxed and comfortable after hard sweaty work, I prefer the creek.
With all the recent activity in water quality by the Environmental Protection Agency, I have to wonder how long until there are federal regulations forbidding creek bathing. Pictures of nasty cows standing in creeks raise public ire so how can dirty old men bathing be far behind? At any rate, creek baths with a cake of Ivory are infinitely preferable when water temperatures and clarity allow.
Yesterday, Saturday, I gardened all morning. Six A.M. until around noon I worked. Weeding, tilling, fertilizing, dusting, hoeing, you name it. Worked harder than an old man on a day growing hot should. Swore off at lunch and went to Doghouse in my blue jean cut off swimming trunks. Took a couple cans of beer along.
I sat in sun for a while peeling burned skin off my legs left from last time I got too much sun a couple weeks ago. Before I did another stupid, I decided to hit the bath rock and cool off. Wash cloth, soap, beer, beside me, creek shoes on my feet I sat and sloshed.
While soaking I thought a bit about clothesline. Where to build it. How to build it. When to build it. I pretty well settled on short North end of Doghouse’s deck, line stretched between building corner and a board tacked to deck corner post, all to be done Sunday afternoon after I finished my column. It is now Sunday afternoon and I ain’t going to “git er done.”
I don’t always need a clothesline when I bathe. Sometimes I close the gate at the highway to impede visitors and bathe buck funny naked. Talk about a super scrubbing, I’m all about it. No shorts to hang up after, less muss, fuss and bother, plus I feel just a little nasty. If somebody shows up and is offended by nakedness, I plan to tell them I am sitting in the middle of property which means they are trespassing to see me. I’m sure any beer I’ve consumed will belligerence to that speech.
Sometimes I need a cloth line worse. There’s no wash dryer at Big House, so if I need some garment washed out let it sitting on bath rock. Grubby undies clean up nicely with Ivory just like their wearer does. They may not smell like fabric softer when I’m done, but they don’t stink like sweaty man.
At any rate, I do need a cloth line. Maybe a removable one because I’d not need it in winter. When life requires a fire in the stove I’ll not be bathing in the creek and any scrubbed clothes can dry inside over a chair back.
I keep a running list of projects to be completed. I’ll put the clothesline back near its top and catch it up another day when writing comes easier.
