I got up this morning and spotted the first inkling of the elusive Sun.
Not just the sun but also a dryness. That kind of dryness that only a rare specimen can detect.
‘Great drying weather, that.’
I could feel my own mother’s excitement buzzing through me as I lashed anything I could get my hands on into the machine.
I recall many memories of ‘Feck it’s raining! Quick QUICK!’ as we all go barreling out the back garden to take the washing in.
To this day Mam asks me ‘Should I put a wash out?’ while looking up at something similar to this:
I say no because I know that’ll mean a relay later on as we all rush out to take it back in again.
She puts it out anyway.
So, out goes my first wash of 2014 onto the line.
Not my first wash ever. I wish! My first wash to make it to the line.
The playroom has become the launderette for the Winter and it drives me insane.
Usually, I send our bedding to the launderette for a wash and iron through the Winter.
It was only lovely to see our bedding on the line as a sign of what is to come.
Anyway, there I was all lovey dovey putting out the washing in my pyjamas and wellies.
Birds singing, trees rustling.
You get the picture.
Then I heard it or should I say, I sensed it.
The dog’s tongue hanging out. Her bulging eyes as she watched me.
The war is back on- I can see it in her face.
So I turn to her and my bliss slices away as I slant my eyes at her, point my finger and bend down as far as my giant bump will allow me and I say,
“If you touch my washin’ I’ll be making dog stew for dinner tonight you little fucker”.
I don’t know what came over me but I was deadly serious.
Maybe it was a pregnancy thing, you know, hormonal and what not.
Maybe I really just knew that if the shitehawk played with my washing I wouldn’t be able to chase her and whip her just an inch from the bum with a teatowel like a proper Irish Mammy (that is how I won the war last year).
Knowing that in my final trimester body I couldn’t even carry the washing basket outside never mind chase her, those words just blurted out and we had a stare off.
She wagged her tail, looking at me, looking at the washing… eyes flickering.
Then I heard the chuckle next door. Our neighbour’s chesty smokers laugh.