The best thing about going on vacation is not doing laundry. The worst thing about vacation is all the dirty laundry afterwards. But a recent trip through Ohio’s Amish country changed my wash day paradigm.

The weather in Ohio was gorgeous last Tuesday, a welcome relief after a rainy, cold weekend. As we wound along country lanes, every farmstead boasted a full clothesline. Our favorites were the single, long line variety. A clothesline was strung from one regular-sized pole to a distant high pole with a pulley on top. From the looks of things, the owners pegged clothes along the reachable section of line, then cranked the pulley and moved the laundry towards the high pole.

My outer adult loved the method’s efficiency. My inner child hated the problem posed by one, long line: a week’s worth of family underwear is visible to God and the neighbors.

Now don’t write me off as Miss Prim and Proper. Consider my childhood history. The number one clothesline lesson I learned way back then was simple. HIDE THE UNDERWEAR by hanging towels, sheets, and outer clothing from the outer lines and both ends of the inner lines. Then, hang undergarments to the inner lines so the UNDERWEAR iS HIDDEN. Doing so, we were told, was VERY IMPORTANT.

My childhood reasoning couldn’t make sense of the importance of HIDING THE UNDERWEAR because my parents said wearing underwear was also VERY IMPORTANT. So I thought it might be better to hang the underwear on the outside lines as proof that we ALWAYS WORE UNDERWEAR. My argument didn’t convince my parents, and being an obedient kid, I HID THE UNDERWEAR. No wonder my inner child couldn’t reconcile copious quantities of Amish underwear blowing in the May wind.

When we got home from vacation, I did laundry. The weather was as beautiful as it had been on our day in Amish country so I hung the clothes on the line. I even took a picture to prove how industrious I was. As you can see, I successfully HID THE UNDERWEAR on the inner lines. Or we DIDN’T WEAR UNDERWEAR for an entire week. WHAT WILL THE NEIGHBORS THINK?

Single laundry line, here I come.