My dryer, which was so old it was avocado colored, finally died this fall. The wires caught fire, and when I came in from outdoors and smelled the smoke, I blamed Rocky, who has an extensive history of fire setting. When he denied any involvement (what a blessing it is to be able to believe him finally), he and I went through the house to discover a smoke-filled basement. The wires on the dryer had ignited and burned and shorted out. I finally found the shut-off valve for the gas, and opened the windows.
Money was a little tight last fall, what with some unexpected repairs to the rental house, and I decided to forego buying a dryer until we were more solvent. When I was a kid in this house, we had a wringer washer and no dryer, so it wasn't too much of a shock. However, it was inconvenient. That meant that we hung all our clothes in the basement on the clothesline my father strung up nearly fifty years ago, and I didn't wash anything which was not totally necessary.
Last Friday, my new dryer arrived. I used it once yesterday, and I started drying clothes full-tilt this morning. I didn't realize how much I took the convenience of a dryer for granted--it was a shock to discover how much pleasure a dryer actually gave me. And the kids are delighted to no longer have crisp underwear.
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