I won’t say I’m bonkers paranoid about hanging out my washing the right way, but I will confess to not allowing anybody in my household the honour of placing pegs on any piece of fabric, of any shape or form, that has recently been removed from my washing machine.
Got that straight….goooood!
Anyway that’s not what I’m here to talk about. Nope, I need to talk about hanging out my knickers to dry.
There I was about an hour ago, outside in the garden, pegging and hanging, when once again I started hiding my knickers behind other larger garments so my neighbours couldn’t see the type of I wear. Now I’ve done this for my entire adult-clothes-washing-life-time, and I don’t know why.
I mean I’m not embarrassed by my knickers! They don’t for instance cause an eclipse when held up high, and they’d be absolutely no use as an emergency piece of string for trussing the turkey at Christmas. AND, I hasten to add, they are not full of holes and/or held together with staples and barely there elastic.
Could it be I’m worried my neighbour will leap over the wall and whip my knickers under her armpit before clambering back and tucking them in her undies drawer? I think not. She looks as if she can afford her own.
There is of course the possibility that I am really a rather shy and coy lady who blushes at the thought of a male seeing even a hint of my drawers. Pre-children I would have said yes, post-children it’s a big fat NOOOOOOOOOOOOT. Any mother will tell you that first pregnancies take away any form of modesty your dear-old-mum has installed in you.
Which reminds me, does anybody remember this old song?
What’s the time, half past nine
Hang your knickers on the line.
When the Policeman comes along
Hurry up and put them on!
Anyway enough about my knickers, if anybody has a theory, let me know…