A mother’s job never changes.
No matter where you are: home, on vacation, recovering from the flu or a C-section, in a foreign country.
There is always the issue (yes, it can be an issue) of LAUNDRY.
I remember my dear friend Erika talking about her new LG washing machine she recently was ABLE (it is a treat to buy a new appliance right?) to purchase.
My sister-in-law Kori has a pretty Saaa–wheat washer/dryer combo herself. I think it does everything except take the clothes off your body when it’s time.
I never really fancied myself an admirer of laundry machines. Until now. I lovingly walk down the supermarket aisles and run my hand along the smooth gloriously shiny tops of all of the various models.
Right about now, I’d take any, even the 6kg cheaper Samsung model.
Ok, well honestly, we’re doing ok with the whole hand wash method, especially because I’m not the one doing the bulk of the washing. Esther is. And bless her for doing so!
I have given it a whirl though and it looks a lot like this in process:
A lot of stooping and rinsing and wringing. It’s much better with a stool in my opinion. Esther will never take one. These women don’t either:
I’ve always liked the sight of laundry blowing in the breeze, just not the stiff feeling it gives jeans and some knit cottons. But, when it comes to dirty clothes (which seems to happen instantly out here in Thika even in comparison to being in Nairobi) or stiff clothes, I’ll take cardboard pants any day.
