Clotheslines. Bossy grew up on the 19th floor of a city high rise, and so her clothesline experience was relegated to summers at the beach, where she would pin her sandy bathing suit to a stretch of sagging cotton rope.
But as the centuries passed, and a few more eons, “the ability to have a clothesline” would eventually dominate a priority list Bossy carried with her while searching for the house she would eventually buy.
And about that you need: sun, easy access, and clearance enough for the hopeful billow of clean white sheets.
Bossy’s current clothesline has the sun part and the easy-access part, but it is shy on the “clearance” component due to the recent overgrowth of an adjacent tree (pictured). Plus the slate walkway under the clothesline is overrun by weeds, making the area kind of mosquito-filled and while we’re complaining: the nearby Holly tree drops those prickly leaves, and so hanging clothes without shoes feels like something of a Survivor challenge.
They are so simple and so right and make you feel less carbon-footprinty and more good-for-the-planety, even if Bossy’s pants and shirts come off the line so stiff it looks as though they already have bodies inside them.