shoestring gringa

If you’re building or renovating a house in Mexico and are at the stage of choosing the plumbing fixtures, here’s a word of advice:  always opt for the simplest item available.   Things like weird, exotic sinks will cause installation nightmares (unless you’re doing it yourself, and even then if you need any special parts).  And fancy mixing faucets may not work at all.  Keep in mind that deluxe fixtures are designed to work with deluxe infrastructure, i.e. levels of water pressure found in Canada and the U.S., not in Mexico.  Buy one of these babies and now you have to add a water pump.  Which won’t work when the electricity fails.  I’m all too familiar with the creative frenzy that can overcome a person when working on a house — but it really is best to keep a lid on it.   One’s true worth as a person does not hinge on cutting-edge bathroom faucets.

Mixer-type faucets may also be problematic when combined with on-demand water heaters which work off sensing water pressure.  This winter, our shower water kept getting colder and colder for no apparent reason, until finally the MexiGringo discovered that somehow the point that triggers the heater had moved in the faucet, so now we have to move the faucet toward the off position until it kicks in.  It was a miserable, shivery few weeks before he figured this out; at first we were thinking we had bought too small of a heater for the winter temperatures.  By the way, the on-demand water heater is a wondrous thing which has reduced our LP gas expenditures enormously, a truly worthwhile investment.

Please note I’m not advocating buying the cheapest thing (necessarily) — quality and durability are always worth paying for.  I’m saying get the simplest thing, the most functional item with the fewest moving/breakable parts, something which will be easy — or at least possible — to replace down the line.

And while we’re in the bathroom here,  if you’re shopping for sinks and toilets, consider the mineral content of the local water when contemplating the beautiful jewel-toned specimens available.  If there’s a lot of  lime in the water, you’ll become an eternal slave to that colorful toilet, on your knees scrubbing away with a pumice stone.  I actually learned this unhappy lesson back in Arizona, but it’s equally applicable here:  we never give those colored toilets a second glance.

There are plenty of trouble-free ways to beautify kitchens and bathrooms in Mexico — like tile for example.  But when it comes to the faucets and fixtures, keeping it simple is the way to go.

There are some cultural differences it’s important to keep in mind when hiring people to work for you in Mexico.  The main one is that Mexicans LOATHE talking about money.  If you don’t believe me, take a look at the classified section of any Mexican newspaper and count the number of for-sale ads that actually state a price.  Close to zero, that’s how many.  It’s very annoying to the gringo way of thinking — you have to make a call to find out if you’re even interested.  In Mexico, however, contact with one’s fellows is clearly valued way more than efficiency.

You’ll find this same attitude when hiring people to perform services for you, from building a house to catering a party.  What typically happens is something like this:  You describe the project in detail, then ask what the person would charge for it.  Instead of naming a price, they’ll tell you something like, “Oh, don’t worry about it, it won’t be much.”

If you allow yourself to be put off by this evasion out of a misguided sense of politeness, lack of assertiveness, fear of making a cultural misstep, or any other reason, I guarantee you will regret it.   If it’s a one-shot deal, like a car repair, you can write it off to experience, but failing to establish a price on larger projects can prove extremely costly both financially and emotionally.  ALWAYS AGREE ON A PRICE FIRST!

In hiring people for construction work, there are two approaches to payment: contract or wage.  Some workers prefer one or the other, others are flexible.  Under the contract plan, the maestro bids a price for the completed job.  Some amount of the total will be required up front to get the job going, and the rest at determined intervals.  An advantage to this is the work may be completed quickly, so the contractor can move on to the next job.  On the other hand, if the contractor is a flake, you may never see him again, or the job could take forever.   Another disadvantage is that the work might be hurried or slipshod, or materials may be skimped on if the bid was unrealistically low.  Also, you can’t make any significant changes without renegotiating the price.  Consider too that your helpful/supervising presence is less likely to be welcomed by a maestro racing to finish the project than one being paid a fixed wage.  If you want to be closely involved with the job and be able to make creative decisions as you go along, the wage basis is probably preferable.  A wage arrangement is likely to take longer than a contract, but you’re more likely to get exactly what you want.

Overall, contract arrangements are probably riskier, especially for larger jobs.  Always try to find people with excellent personal recommendations from someone you trust.  In addition, do not hesitate to fire anyone whose work is not satisfactory; you can always find someone will do the job properly.

Obviously there are situations where quoting an exact price will not be possible (as in car repairs where the extent of the problem is not known), in which case you should ask for an estimate including the worst-case price.

If a person absolutely will not name a price for you, walk away.  Even if they’re the greatest cook/mechanic/architect/friend of yours in all of Mexico, even if it took you weeks of searching to find them.  There’s always somebody else, and you’ll avoid a world of heartache, misunderstandings, and financial losses by taking the time to find them.

In contrast with the woodburning device we built in the living room, the corner fireplace we built in our bedroom has been a resounding success.

This project was pretty simple.  We knew we wanted a New Mexico style kiva design (I once lived in Santa Fe and never got over it).  Our big concern was to build something that worked; most fireplaces don’t heat very well.  So it was back to the internet, where I found a dandy website called The Buckley Rumford Company, which is a veritable treasure trove of information on building something called Rumford fireplaces and kiva fireplaces incorporating Rumford principles.

Rumford fireplaces are named for their inventor, a certain Count Rumford  born in pre-Revolutionary Massachusetts, whose work with fireplace geometry resulted in such impressive heating efficiency that the principles are still in use today.  Mr. Buckley of the website found many similarities between Rumfords and traditional New Mexican kiva fireplaces, and has combined them into the Rumford-Kiva.  Detailed plans and instructions for all manner of these fireplaces are provided on the website, along with a wealth of related information, pictures, and links.  I enthusiastically recommend anyone planning to build a fireplace to avail themselves of this resource.

Our fireplace, built by the Mexigringo with Alejandro the albañil (mason), ended up an amalgam of Rumford proportions, kiva looks, local building traditions, and the whims of the two builders.  It’s a corner fireplace, constructed of burnt-adobe bricks against regular adobe walls, and lined with firebrick.   And miracle of miracles, it works like a charm!

When we were rebuilding this house last year (and freezing our butts off in a dismal, damp-walled rental), a big preoccupation was how to heat the place in the winter.   After some research, we decided to build a rocket stove in the living room and a corner fireplace in one of the bedrooms.  Now we’re living with these decisions, and the results are decidedly mixed.

The Rocket Stove

I found out about this concept looking around on the internet, and being a big fan of all things innovative and sustainable, promoted it enthusiastically to the Mexigringo, who I must say looked on it with a rather jaundiced eye from the first.  But I persisted.  It promised one-third the fuel consumption of a conventional wood-stove, clean and thorough wood consumption, a warm, comfy, and architecturally appealing adobe bench to read and snooze on, plus, cheap and easy assembly!  What more could you ask?

It really did seem like a great solution.  We wanted something efficient because of our large space and high ceilings.  Wood is available but not plentiful here, so the promise of low fuel consumption appealed.  The back of the how-to-do-it book asserted that it could be thrown together in a weekend by anyone with minimal building experience.  And, we already had a huge pile of adobe construction rubble on site which could be recycled into the bench.

So we built it and now it’s winter and we’re using it.  And have somewhat sadly concluded that doing this in Mexico was way more trouble than it was worth.

For starters, the materials, so easily obtainable and often free in the states, ranged from difficult to impossible to find here and involved literally weeks of searching hither and yon.  They were also expensive.  Nothing goes to waste in Mexico:  An old barrel is not a throwaway item but a valuable asset to be parted with only in exchange for cash.  The only freebies were the dirt and sand, which are plentiful locally.  There were no “cheapies.”

The stove took us WAY longer than a weekend to build, more like three weeks all told, and that’s not counting the bench, which we finished months later.  The book’s breezy assertion that any idiot could do this left us feeling like, well, lower than idiots.  In practice, the how-to instructions often proved vague, contradictory or open to various interpretations, leading to much lost time and interpersonal strain among the construction crew.   At some point we realized that no information was given on how to finish the surface of the bench — that was in another book.  One of our cats decided the unfinished bench was a giant kitty box, and we had to cover it over with tarps and weights.  It was not an easy journey, any of it.

Upon using the stove, it appears to be mostly suitable for colder climates than ours.  It’s meant to be fired up on a daily basis, which warms the adobe bench, which then radiates a steady warmth.  So far this year (which does seem unusually mild) we’ve yet to use it two days running, as we’ve been having chilly days alternating with warm days.  So we haven’t been able to benefit from heated bench effect.

Lastly, the stove is temperamental (as the book more than adequately warns).  It has lots of personality, and a bit of a personality disorder — if not given abundant attention, it tends to pout and smoke.   If YOU are temperamental too, then this is perhaps not the best stove for you.  On the other hand, if you’re what they call process-oriented — but really REALLY process-oriented — it may be just the thing.

To the stove’s credit, it does take off the chill in a hurry once we light it up.  This in a 12 x 30 ft. room with 14 ft.  ceilings and tons of windows.  Who knows what wonders it might perform in a smaller space?

To sum up, if we had it to do over again, we wouldn’t, not here anyway.  But if I ever found myself mysteriously transplanted to the back woods of Oregon, I’d totally try it again, hopefully with the help of lots of knowledgeable mountain-man types.  Ironically, these heating stoves are a spinoff of a successful cooking stove developed for use in Third World countries with wood depletion problems.   The heater version, however, appears more doable back in The Land of the Affluent.

If you’re interested in learning more about rocket stoves, see the book Rocket Mass Heaters by Ianto Evans and Leslie Jackson, or their website here.

And stay tuned for part 2 of this tale, which has a happier ending…

Deciding what to bring and what to leave behind before moving to Mexico was an agonizing process and we certainly didn’t get it right every time.  With the benefit of hindsight, I offer this thought — when in doubt, bring it!  You can always give it away later.  Someone will want, use, and cherish it when you no longer do.

Here are a few items that turned out, sometimes surprisingly, to be a Really Good Idea to bring along.

• Bread machine.  Now defunct, unfortunately, but great while it lasted.  Its importance would depend on what’s available locally, of course.  Where good bakeries were abundant, I still used it occasionally for making whole grain breads which are not so common in Mexico.  In our current remote location, making our own bread is the only option.  Bread machines help with two seasonal problems in breadmaking:  having to light the oven in hot weather, and finding a place for the dough to rise when it’s cold.
• Sheepskin-lined boots.  It may sound incongruous, but I’ve used mine in every place I’ve lived in Mexico except Yucatan.  Unless you are going to the torrid tropics, where maybe you won’t need them, they well might end up be your most prized possession.  Houses in Mexico are of masonry construction, and masonry buildings can be chilly, very chilly, even when it’s a balmy 80 degrees F outside.  Remember that central heating is practically unheard of in Mexico, and most people don’t use space heating either.  Many people warm up by simply going outside and sitting in the sun during the chilly hours.  If you have things to do inside the house, better bring clothes.
• Tools.  All of them.  From chain saws to seam rippers.  You’ll never regret it.
• Hair dryer.  I hate using hair dryers because of the noise they make.  But in winter I use one when it’s just too cold to let my hair air-dry.
• Vacuum cleaner.  I was ready to gleefully leave ours behind (ditto noise objection and also we were not going to have carpets) but the Mexigringo wouldn’t hear of it.  He loves his vacuum.  And it has proved to be infinitely useful in the eternal battle against dust/dirt/cobwebs, as well as for post-DIY cleanups.  Not to mention ash and soot control now we are using a wood-burning fireplace and heating stove.  A canister or shop vac model would be more practical than our upright.
• Pressure cooker.  We didn’t actually bring one but bought it here.  Which was a real hassle finding a stainless steel (as opposed to aluminum) one although we finally located a Spanish-made model for about ~$50 US.  This being Mexico and all, you may find yourself cooking beans a lot, and the pressure cooker significantly reduces time and gas usage.  It’s also dandy for getting tough cuts of meat tender fairly quickly.
• Camp stove with gas cartridges.  This has saved the day many times.  Great for making coffee etc. in semi-camping living conditions, if you’re anticipating any of those.  And an ongoing Good Thing every time the propane tank runs out in mid-dinner preparation.  (Better mid-dinner than mid-shower!)  After you get your two-tank propane setup so you never run out of gas, there’s always camping.
• Coleman lantern with fuel cartridges, flashlights, and LED headlamp.  For power failures.
• Porta-Potty.  We were really happy to have this when working long days on our house with the nearest public bathroom six blocks away.
• Over-the-door towel rack.  Sometimes it’s the little things that mean the most.  This $14 Target item has been our faithful friend through many a hardwareless bathroom.  When there’s no door it will fit on, it will hang happily over the shower curtain rod.   One of those over-the-showerhead hanging soap/shampoo racks is a useful companion piece.
• Stuff-holders, i.e. any item that can hold a bunch of other items.  Our most beloved stuff-holder is a hand-me-down kitchen counter/table from Target with decorative metal trim around the sides off of which pots can be hung with S-hooks.  Other examples include a wine rack with small drawer (full of keys) which holds the water dispenser, a futon platform with 14 drawers underneath, all manner of little rolling wire carts, hanging fruit baskets and pot racks, and bookcases.  Mexican houses are devoid of built-in storage features of any kind, and if like most gringos you are overburdened with stuff, you will be needing a place to put it all.
• Expanding curtain rods and assorted lengths of cloth.  Instant curtains!  Can also be used in doorways.
• Jar of white tempera paint and brush.  Makes quick, cheap frosted glass equivalent.  You can paint windowpanes with this to have privacy while still letting in light.  Good solution for bathrooms and anyplace you might not want a curtain.
• Old-style phone, i.e. non-electronic model.  It will work during power failures.

The conventions regarding street addresses in Mexico are somewhat different than those in gringolandia, and not terribly consistent from one place to another, but here are some general pointers that may be helpful.

The street name is given first, the number second:

Calle 25, No. 150 (25th Street, Number 150)

There is often, especially in big cities, a helpful addition of nearby cross streets given:

Calle 25, No. 150 ÷ 66 y 68 (read as “entre [between] 66 and 68th Aves.),

or Calle 25, No. 150 x 76 (por [near, by, or at] 76th Ave.)

or Calle 25, No. 150, Esq. 76 (esquina [at the corner of] 76th)

Most towns consist of named neighborhoods called colonias, which are included in the address.

Calle 25, No. 150 x 76, Colonia Centro

Or newer areas of housing developments may be designated as Fraccionamiento (abbreviated Fracc.) rather than Colonia.

And finally, there’s the city, state, and zip.

Merida, Yucatan C.P. 97000

Mexico

I saw somewhere that it’s a good idea to write “C.P.” before the codigo postal on mailing addresses in Mexico to distinguish them from US zip codes which are identical in some cases. Probably not a bad idea.

Many buildings, especially in smaller communities, have never been anointed with a number. These may be designated as either

Calle 150 S/N (Calle 150 sin numero [without number])

or

Domicilio Conocido (known residence)

This may seem excessively vague and annoying by gringo standards, but Mexicans move about far less than their northern neighbors, making a rigid system of addresses a low priority item to say the least.

If you’re searching for a specific address, locating the street and then the number is unlikely to work too well anyway, as street signs and building numbers are conspicuously lacking. It’s usually necessary to ask for directions, often repeatedly until you zero in on the location. As with most things in Mexico, personal interaction is required, and landmarks such as “the Corona beer store” or “the telephone tower” are usually more useful than street names and numbers.

Looking for a house in Mexico can be either an amusing adventure or a nightmare, depending on how much of a hurry you are in. As with most other matters Mexican, hurry is bad. Patience is all. The remarks below apply to houses either for rent or for sale.

It can’t hurt to try the familiar approaches first — especially if you’re in an urban, touristy, or expatriate area — of real estate agents, newspaper ads, and the internet. These sources are the least labor-intensive, and the most likely to offer properties with gringo-style amenities. They’re also most likely to have gringo-style prices.

If you decide to venture further afield in search of a bargain, or more “authentic” surroundings, it will be necessary to resort to the time-honored “wild goose chase” method. This method will be the only choice if you’re in a non-urban locale with few tourists or expats.

The Mexican wild goose chase is a decidedly demanding pursuit, and is best carried out with proper preparation and equipment. Essential items include:

• A cell phone
• Notebook and pen
• Map of the area (if available)
• Good walking shoes
• Spanish (or interpreter)
• Car

The cell phone is the most important. The other stuff will help you to attempt to stay organized, and to endure. This is the purpose of the notebook. Make it a point — nay, a religion — to write down every possible detail about each place you see. That is, the actual address if you can ascertain it and/or cross streets and landmarks, a brief physical description of the place (”yellow house on corner”), and any names and phone numbers given. Also write down the name of anybody you talk to about the place. Leave ample room around each entry so you can keep all the followup notes with it, crossing out bad phone numbers, adding in new ones, etc. Doing this may seem a bit laborious at the time, but becomes indispensable after things begin to blur together approximately halfway through the first day.

If the place has a sign with a phone number on it, always call immediately while you’re standing in front of it. You might get lucky and find someone willing to run over and show you the inside.

If a phone number doesn’t seem to work, do not give up immediately. Sometimes area codes are omitted from signs, or the fact that it’s a cell phone, etc. If possible enlist the help of a local to ascertain what the problem might be.

Once organized for the chase, the remainder really lies in the domain of chance. When relying on randomness, hazard, luck, fortune, synchronicity, the Fates, etc., it behooves you to increase your chances as much as possible by using a two-pronged approach: Talking and Walking.

Talking involves telling everyone you meet what you are looking for. This means anybody you can get to talk or listen to you — the employees at your hotel, the shoeshine boy, the person on the park bench, the ice cream vendor, the bus driver, any friends or acquaintances you have in the area — everyone. Get out and mingle at every opportunity, even when not in active hunting mode, in order to come into contact with as many people as possible. Have your notebook on you at all times so you can write down any information you get.

Walking involves a systematic combing of the area. Start at one end of the town, neighborhood, etc., and troll every street in as thorough a way as possible, looking for signs and unoccupied buildings and accosting anyone you happen upon. Depending on the size of the area you’re considering, this may take a while.

Note that many Mexican neighborhoods are not as homogeneous as stateside ones and humble dwellings can often be found rubbing shoulders with much fancier digs. Also remember that it’s Spanish tradition not to flaunt one’s wealth: the most unpromising exterior may harbor a gem within. So avoid making snap judgments and look at everything. Because you just never know.

People in the neighborhood can be a treasure trove of information. If you need to locate the owner of a place, ask the neighbors, or at nearby tienditas. These folks will often be able to provide you with the owner’s name, phone number, home address, and life history, as well as details about the house and leads to other houses that might be available.

You have to start somewhere, and looking for signs is as good a way as any, but any empty house is a potential candidate and most of them don’t have signs. So ask away, write everything down, follow up every lead, have patience, and happy hunting!

I offer here some items to consider before committing to a rental dwelling in Mexico. This list may also be useful to prospective buyers who don’t want to spend a lot of money on changes and improvements.

• Laundry setup. If you plan to have a washing machine, make sure there’s a place you can put it, with water line(s) available and a drain of some kind. Figure out where the clothesline can go.
• Hot water. Make sure there’s hot water wherever you might want it. Do not assume there is hot water in the kitchen or bathroom sinks, even though there may be two faucets in evidence. Don’t even assume the shower has hot water, for that matter, although many do. Never assume anything.
• Rotoplas. Many areas in Mexico undergo frequent interruptions of the water supply. It is therefore highly desirable to have a water storage tank (Rotoplas is a common brand name) up on the roof, to tide you over during these otherwise annoying/inconvenient/unsanitary interludes.
• Leaks, etc. Check carefully for any obvious problems such as leaky toilets or faucets and insist that they be repaired before you move in (unless you’re willing to do it yourself). Inspect the ceilings for stains indicating leaks, and ask if they have been repaired. Eyeball doorways which might admit flash floods during sudden downpours.
• Shower. Always turn on the shower to see if it works okay. Few things are more miserable to live with than a crappy shower.
• Parking. Make sure there is a safe, convenient place to park your vehicle(s), including any trailers, bicycles, etc. Try to find out if there’s a busy season which affects parking availability.
• Pets. Most Mexican landlords we’ve encountered don’t care about pets, at least not in the price ranges we’ve rented in — it’s not like there are any curtains or rugs to destroy. We do always ask, however. What’s really important is to check for pet safety — are there screens on the windows so the cats can’t escape, or a good place to walk the dog? Houses with indoor patios are great for pets; they can enjoy being outside while safe from the hazards of the street.
• Temperatures. This can be hard to gauge, but try to get a sense of how comfortable the place might be during the hot or cold times of year, if applicable. Note the thickness of walls, the height of ceilings, and the placement and exposures of windows. Are there windows or doors placed such that cross-ventilation is possible? Thick walls and high ceilings bode best for hot climates. Thin walls suck at both hot and cold extremes of temperature. Low-ceilinged rooms are faster and cheaper to heat in cold weather, although unattractive. Note that masonry houses can feel quite cold even when it’s 70 F. outside.
• Noise. If noise bothers you, try to visit the prospective place during both day and evening hours to check out the noise level. Some streets become notably busier at certain times of the day such as commute hours. Consider whether you’ll have street-facing windows open a lot. Vacation areas can get incredibly noisy during busy times, with deafening disco music blasting most of the night over the din of 24-hour car traffic, late-night revelers, and the carnival down the street.
• Air quality. If the windows are going to be open a lot, check out that the diesel fume level is tolerable.
• Lighting and electrical. Most Mexican houses that we’ve lived in have pretty basic lighting arrangements, i.e. a bare light bulb in the middle of the ceiling if you’re lucky, a 2-watt neon ring fixture if you’re not. Be prepared to supplement with lamps if you prefer a more subtle ambiance. For painting, we’ve been using a 4-foot, 2-tube overhead fluorescent fixture, which we hang from hooks screwed into the ceiling, or hook-and-chain arrangements from high rafters. Try to make sure enough outlets are operational for your needs (not all outlets necessarily have power). A few power strips are always good to have on hand, but be careful not to overload the circuits (or should I say circuit; there is usually but one). Most places do not have the electricity grounded. At the very least have a good surge suppressor for computers and other valuable electronics. In one place we rented, the Mexigringo aka Mr. Fabulous Fixit, improvised a ground for the outlet of the computer by clamping a ground wire to a convenient galvanized plumbing pipe which was partially buried in the ground, and attaching the other end to an outlet with ground (which he of course had to provide and install). This type of improvisation is known as a mexicanada and is not recommended unless you have professional-level electrical know-how.
• Utilities. If you’re renting a place where there are multiple units, make sure the utilities are separate. This includes the propane gas for hot water and cooking and the hot water heater itself. Shared billing arrangements inevitably end up being unfair to someone and causing problems. Shared hot water heaters and gas tanks lead to even more cold showers and half-cooked meals than usual, which is too many already.
• Price. Last but not least! Rental prices can vary wildly in Mexico, especially as you get off the beaten track. Try to see as many places as you can before deciding, and to have at least some idea of what might be the going rate for comparable properties. It’s possible to pay a fortune for a dump, and a pittance for a palace, in the same neighborhood. Patience and persistence are most likely to lead to success.

Mexico is a noisy country, and it can take some getting used to. Traffic is louder than in the U.S., due to lack of muffler laws, more rattly vehicles and one-cylinder motorcycles, and narrow stone streets which echo and amplify the above. Many houses are built with their front walls right on the street, and traffic noise can be very noticeable in the front rooms. If you live in a tropical area without glazed windows, add exhaust fumes coming into the living room.

Mexicans as a group seem to be very fond of noise. Celebrations are often observed by shooting off fireworks, and music tends to be played at high volume. Most restaurants will have a TV blaring in a corner somewhere. Some supermarkets set up giant speakers on the premises and blast music and ads at the hapless shoppers. For an interesting examination of this aspect of Mexican character see Octavio Paz’ classic The Labyrinth of Solitude.

There is really not a whole lot of defense possible against much of the ambient noise assault. With time one adjusts somewhat. Sometimes restaurant staff will comply with a request to turn down the volume. The main thing I would advise is to be very alert to the noise factor when choosing housing. A street which is tranquil at midday when you are shown the house may come alive in the evening, or for several weeks or months at a time if you live in a vacation spot. We lived for awhile in a small beach town which was inundated with holidaymakers during Semana Santa (Easter Week) and the months of July and August. During those times our unglazed windows let in a 24-hour barrage of traffic noise, blasting car stereo music, and exhaust fumes, and left us longing for the slow season.

Here’s a hot TIP if you do end up with a noisy living room. Hearing your own TV can be a real problem in the ebb and flow of traffic din; if you are playing DVDs, you can select English subtitles and rely on them to fill in the blanks when those trucks rumble by.

Before I get off the subject for good (when?? please!! you’re probably saying), I’ll just share one last laundry experience in the hopes it might save someone else from a similar pointless exercise.

A few weeks ago we were having a lot of rainy weather here, and what with our limited selection of clothes, I worried a lot about getting it to dry by the time we would need it again.

And then I remembered what my mother so un-fondly recalls doing when we lived in England in the early 1950s, which was to retrieve the frozen-stiff garments from the clothesline and iron them dry.

Brilliant, I thought, I’ll just do that! The old style! How simple, how elegant! (How labor-intensive, but oh well.)

How mistaken.

Oh, it still works with some things, pure cotton jeans are fine. But in most clothes nowadays, even the clothes of a natural-fiber freak like me, there lurks some small percentage of synthetic content which does NOT take well to being steamed dry with a hot iron. No, these fabrics will melt, rather than dry, under a hot-iron assault.

If you think about it, it wasn’t so long ago, maybe 100 years, that people boiled their dirty linens. That was before my time, but I can remember the days when Clorox was routinely used; everything white (read cotton) got bleached. And then they had bluing to counteract the yellowing effects of the bleach. I suppose all socks must have been wool back then. (A pair of wool socks costs at least $12 now, and you have to buy them at a backpacking store — when did that happen?) But I digress. In sum, take heed: old-style laundering practices can be hazardous to present-day fabrics.

So, it was back to the drawing board, or more accurately, to the clothesline, this time one strung up indoors for those rainy-day Saturdays.