I think the heater in our dryer might be malfunctioning, so the clothes I put in there just won’t get dry. Now, this of course happened at a most inopportune moment since its warranty has expired and we can’t afford to buy ourselves a new one. I mean, we couldn’t afford to go on holiday this year either. Fortunately, the weather has been quite nice the last couple of days and I was able to put my laundry up to dry outside on the balcony, making sure to hang the most private scraps of clothing way at the back.
To my amazement I actually enjoyed putting up the laundry and checking to see if it’s dry later. Was there some dormant gen that was awakened at this act, making my hormonal glands excrete inordinate amounts of oestrogen? I’ve never felt more like the woman of the house when putting up and taking down the laundry from the clothes lines on my balcony. I’m ashamed, and frankly, a little bit disappointed in myself.
Regrettably, the dryer breaking down didn’t cause more testosterone to pump into my husband’s veins so that he would get up and hunt for a new one. Don’t you just love gender roles?
