I forgot to mention that last week was the clothespin harvest festival at our house.  That's the big day when winter weather actually commences and things gotta be done, or else.  Snow started fallin' and those clothespins gotta be brung in before they freeze on the line and are lost for the season.  We don't believe in removing the clothespins from the line for several reasons.  One being that someone, not me, lost the terrific little hanging bag that Handyman bought me from Menards.  It hung, it slid down the line conveniently and it held wrens who tried valiantly to nest in it whilst I kept scaring them out each night, think they were bats!!  Anyway, it's gone.  I'm sure it is buried, full of clothespins, in the room over the garage, our storage shed. 

Soooooooooo, without a hanging clothespin bag, I would have to carry the clothespins back and forth to the laundry area, which for those of you who have been to my home know is strategically connected to/inside my kitchen/dog kennel area.  

Sooooooooooo, rather than carry those pesky things back and forth, I came up with the brilliant scheme to just leave them on the line all summer.  That's where I need them.  That's where they do their job.  Why shouldn't they just stay there? 

So, they did and it's worked out swimmingly.  Until now.  The dreaded season is upon us and there is no denying it.  I held out.  Leaving my clothespins to struggle through autumn.  There were many great clothes-hanging days in autumn.   Days when I could still hang out my sheets and blankets.  There was even that one day/night when I woke to an early morning (4 am) thunderstorm out of nowhere and remembered that Handyman's jeans were on the line with some towels and that if I didn't get out there quick the weight of that stuff soddenly hanging would bring the whole caboodle down.

Sooooooooo, I drug myself out of bed at four.  Out into the pitch black side of the house where there is NO light whatsoever.  Wind is whipping, thunder is roiling--I'm in my jammies about to pee my pants.  I get the laundry down, slightly damp.  Of course the dogs take this as the signal that it's time to get up.  I cannot deny them because I know what it feels like to have your bladder in full anticipation mode--all bunched up and ready to unload.  

Soooooooo, I take the dogs out.  I start the dishwasher.  I unplug the tvs and computers for the storm. I fill the coffee maker and start it, impressing myself with my amazing organizational abilities at 4-stinkin-am and I head back to bed.  I know Handyman will be sooooooooo impressed to have coffee already done when he gets up.  I even manage to fall back asleep while the storm continues.

When Handyman says goodbye to me, still in bed, he adds, "That was the best pot of hot water ever Honey."   I think he will be finding clothespins in his sheets later.

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