I'm grateful for my washing machine. Today I'm cooking blueberry pancakes while my washing machine is washing the light colored clothes. It has prominent sounds of humming and whirring and of running water and splishy splashy water. It sings as I turn the pancakes, pour the batter and dot them with blueberries. I know by the sounds where it is in it's cycle. It takes about as long to do it's job as it takes me to cook these pancakes up.
It hasn't always been this easy to wash clothes. For most of history clothes were washed outdoors in rivers and lakes, in the warm months, and only if soiled. In the winter, socks and undergarments were washed and hung around the stove or fireplace to dry. Poor folks washed clothes in the evening and hung them to dry by morning. They were washed by hand in a small amount of water. Scrubbed together between knuckles. Some women had wash boards and special tubs also used for bathing.
I wished for a wash board once. Getting laundry washed for four lively little children was a daunting task even with a washing machine. When the machine broke I tried to wash the clothes in the bath tub. After a few loads my knuckles were sore and cracked. Their weren't quarters at that time for the laundromat.
Most of us have been there, stepping back into the past temporarily just to get a job done. Getting a few clothes washed this way gave me an understanding of why children could be in trouble for soiling their clothes.
When there were quarters for the laundromat, we filled the trash can with clothes and detergent and wheeled it down the street to go and get the job done. Though I was grateful for the quarters and the laundromat at that time, I am even more grateful today for my washing machine.
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