JULIA SPENCER-FLEMING: It used to be called Blue Monday. For centuries in the western tradition, Monday was laundry day, a day-long arduous series of tasks involving heating water over a fire or a a coal burner, pouring it into a literal tub with the dirty clothes, scrubbing - by hand, over a washboard, or against stones - rinsing in water that until the advent of indoor plumbing had to be pumped and toted, wringing and hanging up on bushes, a clothes line, or a wooden rack.People didn't have as nearly as many clothes as we have today, and I don't think it was just because of the greater cost. Can you imagine doing this with everything in your weekly laundry basket?
Which leads me to my recreation of ye olden days. The electricity in my upstairs bath/laundry room has gone kaput. (See episodes 1 - 80 of Julia's Old House for similar incidents.) I already did all the easy stuff to check for the problem, and nothing worked. I've been dragging my feet on calling the electrician, since I suspect it's going to be a pricey job. Not having a light over the sink isn't really an issue - the bathroom is Jack and Jill style, opening onto my bedroom and what used to be the Smithie's, and with lamps on in the bedrooms, I can see to brush my teeth and wash my face just fine.But the washer and dryer don't work.
Some of you with keen memories may remember me talking right here about how I virtuously hung up all my laundry, saving on electricity and being green, etc., etc., but the truth is, with only one adult in the house to get everything done, I leaned heavily on that dryer all last year. But sure, yeah, I can, if necessary, do without a dryer.
But not a washing machine. I've had friends who have stepped in during my slow-motion crisis, which has enabled me to experience different aspects of the laundry life c. 2018. One friend invited me to dinner and had me toss things into her stacked super-efficient washer-dryer tucked into a corner of the downstairs bathroom. Another who who is genuinely green and living off the grid with solar power let me use her washer on a sunny day and hang my clothing and sheets on her professionally equipped outdoor line - thirty feet of returning cord, kept from sagging by a series of clip-on pullys and three hanging bags of clothes pins. Like my grandmother did back in the day, this friend steps out onto her back porch and hangs everything up from there, wheeling it out and in over the course of a day.
Another friend, living in a more suburban environment, has an actual laundry room. I've never had one in my life and I'm filled with envy. She has a counter over the washer and dryer at exactly the right height for folding clothing (I fold mine on the dining room table...) and a pull-down sweater dryer and an ironing board in a narrow cupboard. SO AWESOME.And, of course, I've also used a laundromat for the first time in decades. I had forgotten how much I actually enjoy the experience. The one I went to was very clean and bright, with stacks of the latest magazines in a little sitting area and free wifi. It was a pleasantly enforced time-out for reading, and there's something bracing about getting ALL the laundry done at one swoop, drying it, folding it, and being on your way. No clean-but-unfolded pile sitting in a basket in the bedroom, making you feel guilty. No half-load building up in the hamper.
My laundry styles of the modern American landscape tour has been interesting, but I think it's time to bite the bullet and call in Joe the Electrician. In the meantime, Reds, what's your laundry day like? Do you have an actual LAUNDRY ROOM? Does it really make the chore a pleasure?
DEBORAH CROMBIE: Julia, we do have a laundry room off our master bathroom (master bathroom sounds much grander than the actual thing in this old house...) but there is just room for the washer and dryer, which face each other, with a rolling hamper squeezed in between. There are some hard to reach shelves over the machine, and the folded ironing board is squeezed between the dryer and the wall. Clothes are folded (when they get folded) on the bed. I try to do laundry on Sundays, but almost never finish it and will have one load or another sitting in the dryer most of the week. I do actually kind of like doing laundry, however. It's a task that can be satisfyingly completed in a reasonable amount of time--unlike writing a book. When I stay in my favorite hotel in London I take my clothes to the laundrette, as they say, and I like doing that. An hour to read or make notes or people watch, and then everything is done and folded. But when I moved to Scotland years ago and lived at first with my husband's parents, his mom had a washing machine like nothing I'd ever seen. It had hoses that attached it to the kitchen sink, and you put the clothes through a sort of mangle. Then you pulled the sopping wet clothes out and carried them to the clothesline in the back garden. It was always freezing cold and, being an unwelcome guest, I was the one tasked with hanging the clothes and taking them down, usually frozen. Not one of my fondest memories of life in the UK.
JULIA: While looking for pictures for the blog, I happened on an amazing account of laundry day in an unelectrified thatched roof cottage in the UK - in the early 50s! Go over to A Housewife's Work and have a read. It'll make you feel better about modern times, that's for sure.
LUCY BURDETTE: My one memory of laundry growing up was this: If you wanted something clean in the morning, you rooted through a giant basket of clean but unfolded laundry. Shirts wrinkled beyond wearing, socks forever missing mates, and so on. With four kids and a job, who could blame my mom? We should have been doing our own laundry by then! That said, I don't leave things in a basket these days, I wait to do laundry until I have time/energy to finish the job. And like Deb said, it can be very satisfying. It's not at all like writing a novel, which goes on and on...
HALLIE EPHRON: Ah, laundry. My marriage has evolved to the point where my husband and I each do our own laundry (after I turned his underwear pink for the third time, and send a black crayon through the dryer, he decided my doing it wasn't worth the risk.) And he does the household sheets and towels. Sadly he cannot fold to save his life. Our "laundry room" is in a dark hole in the basement, but I could not live without it. When we moved in there was a clothes line in the yard which I never used. Julia, bite the bullet and call the electrician!
JENN MCKINLAY: Laundry rooms are add-ons in our mid-century neighborhood. So, it's an out building attached to the house that has storage shelves and a washer, dryer, and the water heater. My goal this year is to modernize it, but that's after I put new vanities in the bathrooms, finish refreshing the kitchen cabinets, and painting all of the bedrooms. Ah, home ownership. Isn't it grand? I actually like having the laundry room as it's own entity. True confession: When the hooligans were toddlers, I used to hide in there sometimes just to have a minute or five to myself.
RHYS BOWEN: When I was growing up we sent most things out to the laundry... Sheets, towels, shirts etc and it was just small stuff that got hung on the line. By the way, the Brits still swear by their clothes lines. They like clothing dried in fresh air. I don't know why clothes lines are not part of life in Arizona with over 300 sunny days a year. It would certainly save power.I have a small laundry room and a wonderful new washing machine. It's a top loader but he and uses very little water. The only drawback is it is so deep I have to stop toppling in to reach the last socks. However my dryer must be almost 30 years old and still going strong ! With just two of us at home laundry is easy these days. Unlike when we had 4 children at home, one of who,, who shall be nameless , would drop clean clothes back in the laundry room rather than put them away!
INGRID THOFT: I do all the laundry because, for some reason, my hubby hates doing laundry. That’s fine by me; there’s something so satisfying about loading in dirty clothes and ending up with clean, fresh-smelling items. Even though there are only two of us, I feel like I’m always doing laundry for two reasons. One is that our washer and dryer are “condo-sized,” specifically meant for small urban living spaces, and therefore, don’t hold much. The second reason I feel like the washer is my constant companion is that working out most days of the week generates a lot of sweaty, exercise clothes. I wouldn’t have it any other way, but Rhys, I’m envious of your seemingly bottomless washer! 
HANK PHILLIPPI RYAN: I love doing the laundry. Yes. Ingrid, there are only two of us, too, so there's never too too much, and it is so gratifying! We have a big (old and unglamorous) basement, where there's and washer and dryer, and a big sink, and places to hang everything. And folding, I love that, too, is so mindlessly satisfying. And everything is warm and smells good. Julia, fix the washing machine. Or hey. Take the laundry someplace, and let them do it. It might be cheaper than fixing the washing machine.JULIA: So tempting, Hank. Whatever happened to the vans that picked up and delivered laundry? I know, gone with the milkman. How about you, dear readers? Time to come clean about your laundry!
