I feel it in my toes

It’s taken several days, but I’ve nearly got the Boy’s room mucked out in preparation for his return on Saturday. Today I decided to wash his quilt, which of course won’t fit in the washing machine, so I filled the bath with warm water and washing powder and dumped it in there. After half an hour’s soaking it was time to start beating it into submission, so I got my current book (“Equal Rites” again), took off my sandals and proceeded to stomp up and down the bath in the fashion of a very confused French winemaker. It was disturbing but satisfying to see the water turn an unusual shade of brownish-grey. When I reckoned it was as clean as it was going to get the plug was pulled and the sludgy water encouraged to escape down the hole. A bit more trampling squeezed out most of the water, and then it was time to prepare for the rush. The bathroom is about as far from the back door as it is possible to get, so getting a sodden, dripping duvet out to the line was going to be a sploshy business.

Of course, because the quilt is too big to go in the machine, it is too big to spin. It is currently draped over the washing line, dripping in a way that looks like it can carry on for several days. It’s got 60 hours. I wonder ...

CNPS: 108