Laundry in Pioneer Days

Yikes! I’ve gone silent again. This must be resisted.

Of course it’s all more difficult now. There are more steps between me and communication. That doesn’t mean it can’t be done. Say “NO” to explaining the silence. Pick a topic and start talking. Laundry!

Dry camping is no big deal. They had it tougher crossing the prairies, and yet they managed to post on their blogs, using cast-iron tools. I can, too. And I can do the laundry. When we first came here, we used the laundromat in town but… come on. No fun. Even if we have time for that on our infrequent town trips, which we really do not, the biggest issue was EWWWW. I am not having fun right now!

Sometimes you find nice, polite, rational people in the laundromat, quietly waiting for their wash to be done. Sometimes not. On the last day I went, the experience started with a party of educated types discussing the Ukraine war with what they imagined was lofty reasoning, but their opinions were distasteful to me, even when so gently spoken. Aside from covering my ears there was no escape. I had to listen and wait for them to leave. But the next party was worse: eighteen strong, and although I couldn’t understand a word they said, the general drift was understandable. One mated pair was having such intense disharmony that it must be continued right there in front of the dryers, in accusing, bitter tones, while the young ran around coughing with their mouths open.

After that experience I came home, squirted some blue dawn in a bucket of water, washed my clothes and hung them on the line. It was one dress, a pair of socks and a couple washcloths, and hanging on a line in the woods looked so picturesque I could have just exploded with how cute it was and how proud I was of myself. Why didn’t I take a picture? Anyway I took a picture several loads later, when it was becoming a thing and I was getting my act together.

I found a new gadget for laundry–Turns out they had those in olden times, too. I’ve seen them in museums and not known what they were. “Cone-shaped thing on a long stick.”

In retrospect, after using it several times and figuring out how to be more efficient about everything, I didn’t really need it. One of Jeff’s old oars works about as well for skooshing the clothes around in the tub. Modern laundry soap is what really does the job. But the gadget helped with hope and enthusiasm at the beginning, so that was good.

That big black container in the center is a heavy garden pot that had a bunch of holes drilled in it. I drilled even more holes, then dumped my sopping wet clothes in there, and stomped around on em with my bare feet as if I was treading out the wine. In lieu of a wringer that gets them quite well squeezed out.

I took this picture of the 7-gal boxes we use for hauling the potable water into the house. There’s other water in those big square IBC tanks for laundry. We use the IBC to carry water home from town, then drain it into the big round 550-gal black tank. Jeff set up such a lovely faucet on it that I can connect the hose and fill the boxes up myself.

It’s all so much fun! So independent! We are pioneers.

We had to walk away from all that other nonsense and just head out west (it was located towards the east) and start a new life. Hard work is part of the deal but that’s okay. We can hold our heads up now. It was TEOTWAWKI, the end of the world as we knew it.

Both of us were preppers in our own way, and now it’s time to use all those things we’d been collecting. Jeff’s old manual tools and my manual sewing machine come in handy. Wool blankets and candles are useful things.

I think we have maybe more practical skills than average, and yet when we got out here and actually tried it, we did some things the dumb way or the hard way at first.

Everybody wants to try this! And yet, if things hadn’t gone wrong just right in our last gig, we wouldn’t have “had no choice but” to come out here and sink or swim.

I’ve always wanted to head for the wild woods and carve out a home, but when the time came for it to begin to be reality, I might have chickened out, if I could have.

Some people have to play a game to simulate this experience. We’re doing it!

There we are, my darling and me.

That one had on its loading screen, “All we need is love! And wide-open spaces of prairie.”
We have love and a little patch of woods 🙂

What about just getting a washing machine? I could run it with the generator and then hang the clothes to dry. I was looking into that idea and happened across this adorable thing instead! The “Laundry Wand” and this picture expresses my feelings better than my own face does. I was SO excited to get it!

Turns out they had those in olden times, too. I’ve seen them in museums and not known what they were. “Cone-shaped thing on the end of a stick.”

In retrospect, after using it several times and figuring out how to be more efficient about everything, I didn’t really need it. An old oar works just about as well for skooshing the clothes around in the tub. Modern laundry soap is what really does the trick. But the gadget helped me with hope and enthusiasm at the beginning of this journey, so that was good.

The “backbreaking labor” part of the proposition is mostly the lifting and wringing of wet clothes. They get sooooo heavy, esp the denim clothes and flannel sheets. I could buy a wringer sometime maybe.

Meanwhile, that big black container in the center of the picture is a garden pot that had a bunch of holes drilled in it. I drilled even more holes, coiled a big rope on the ground beneath it, dumped my sopping wet clothes in there, and stomped around on em with my bare feet as if treading out the wine. That gets them quite well squeezed out.

On my first try, that folding plastic table was too low, so I was bent over to scrub, and that contributed to the exhaustion. Now there’s a great pallet that Jeff fixed for me that puts the table at the perfect height.

So here’s the procedure. First, I inspect the item for stains, because they don’t show when it gets wet. Then wet it, put it on the table and scrub those spots with a brush dipped in diluted dish soap. Then the clothes go into a 5-gal bucket with modern chemical laundry detergent mixed up pretty strong. Yay for chemicals! Hands don’t go in there. Skoosh with the gadget for a few minutes. Leave and do something else. Come back and skoosh some more, then dump the whole load into the drainer. Do something else. Come back and throw the mostly-dripped clothes into the rinse water and skoosh. Then back in the drainer, and stomp all over them! Rinse again, stomp again. That gets the heavy weight of water out but they’re still very wet, so I throw the garments on the line sideways! That way at least they stretch out wider, and later when they’re hung up they can relax into the proper shape. Or I come back when they’re mostly dry and rotate them, and hang up properly.

Here’s a picture after several loads when I was beginning to know what I was doing.

And fun??? Absolutely delightful. I’d wake up in the morning like, “oh boy there’s laundry to wash today!!” In my lovely sunny woods with my dog wanting the stick thrown and my husband working nearby.

The biggest surprise from all this is the PRIDE when you wash clothes yourself. Can’t say “oh the washer didn’t get it very clean.” If it isn’t very clean, nobody failed but me. So I get the stains out. Jeff’s heavy carpenter jeans come out CLEAN and bright blue. His white t-shirts come out mostly sparkling white, at least no longer as icky looking as formerly. He told me when I started trying this that if the clothes just come out not sweaty any more, that’s all we need. I never expected my washing to be cleanER.

These are the 7-gal boxes we use for hauling the potable water inside.

It’s all so much fun. So independent. We are pioneers. We had to walk away from all the nonsense and head out west (it was found in an easterly direction) to start a new life. Hard work is part of the deal but that’s okay. We can hold our heads up.

It was TEOTWAWKI, the end of the world as we knew it. Both of us liked non electric stuff and now we have a use for it. Jeff’s old manual tools and my manual sewing machine come in handy. Wool blankets and candles are useful things.

I think we have maybe more practical skills than average, and yet when we got out here and actually tried it, we did a lot of things the dumb way or the hard way at first.

But everybody wants to try this! If everything hadn’t gone wrong just right in our last gig, we wouldn’t have “had no choice but” to come out here and sink or swim.

I’ve always wanted to head for the wild woods and carve out a home. When the time came that it began to be reality, I might have chickened out. It was so comfortable with the hot shower, electric heat, internet, washing machine.

Some people have to play a game to simulate what we’re doing right now. Not us, we’re doing it.

“Everybody wants to be me!” hahaha