Come the fall

The Association had a wonderful song in which Jim Yester sang, “Come the fall, come the fall.”

I know I’m dating myself since some of those band members may actually be dead by now. And Yester wasn’t even singing about autumn but more of a tumble into sadness when he sang those words.

But still, I thought of that song today as Mother Nature flirted with the upper 50s all afternoon and I was able to hang linens on the line for one last time before winter closes down the clothes line.

I don’t dry my clothes with a machine mostly because I really like letting the sun and the wind do the job for me. My clothes last longer, the bed linens smell better, and it’s a reminder of all the hours I spent pegging clothes to the line as a kid. (Probably not enough time — my mom did most of that herself.)

The best part of hanging the wash on the line is putting fresh sheets on the bed, as I just did tonight. I had the bed looking right and tight and tidy and was feeling at peace with the world when I turned around and saw the top sheet sitting in the laundry basket.

Maybe some of you philistines could lay yourself down to sleep without a top sheet to tuck under your chin, but I surely cannot. I am the kid who was making my own bed with military corners by the time I was 5. My mom remembers only two things about me as a child — I trained myself at age one and a half (yes, I was an angel), and I was such a good bed maker that I could slip in and out of bed without ever leaving a trace that I had spent the night there.

The funny thing is, though, I hate making the bed. So when I discovered that top sheet missing, I screamed. Not a oh-no-there’s-a-bat-in-the-house-and-I-surely-will-die scream. More the I-can’t-believe-I-did-that scream.

So I ripped apart my freshly made bed and added the missing sheet. Now I’m much too hyper to go to bed which is why I’m writing this at 11 o’clock at night.

I’m hoping I’ll be tired enough to slip beneath that top sheet and lay motionless throughout the night so I can slip back out in the morning, leaving not a trace that I spent the night there.

But probably I’ll have nightmares all night about making and remaking the bed and it will be a wreck come morning..

 

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