Really? Polyester and it’s not wash-and-wear? The site had said, simply, washable, the little stinkers.

Part of me was actually pleased, truth be told, it meant it would look new a lot longer.

I hand washed a whole lot of things today.

Water at tepid, (cold is for silk, never wool) suds revved up, put the sweater in and cause as little agitation in the water as possible, let it soak awhile, remove from the sink while the water drains and refills so it’s not subjected to the rushing motions around the tap and the drain, lay flat and pat into shape to dry, preferably on a mesh screen or the like. Repeat with merino skirt.

It occurred to me yet again the thought that this is a luxury of middle age, to be able to wear so many things that need to be handled this way, requiring individual care and time. There is no baby to interrupt the proceedings for hours at a stretch or to pull themselves up via the iron’s electric cord, no three-year-old to grab the drying sweater and fling it around lasso-style over their heads galloping down the hall pretending to be a cowboy, no teenagers slamming their backpack down on the kitchen table needing soothing words and the surprise of ice cream and the presence of someone who cares no matter what.

Just me making sure this comes out without shrinking or twisting and with that smudge of peanut sauce from last night carefully removed from that white silk-and-cotton. Then washing that silk shirt and that one and putting them in the washer at the last only so as to spin them out in the no-spray cycle. (Habit. Woolens are the ones that need not to have water spray coming at them.)

It’s a luxury and a loss all at once.