A Good Dryin' Day!

Poor Luke waiting for his blankie to dry..

I must say, I do appreciate a good drying day. Even writing that makes me realise that the transformation is now complete, and I've turned into my mother. I wonder when that happened.
 I certainly don't remember appreciating such things during my twenties- I'm quite sure that I never looked out the window and thought, 'Hmmmm, there's great drying in that-I'll just strip those beds and get the sheets out for a good blow.'
And when exactly did the sight of a line filled with dancing towels begin to bring deep satisfaction?
I remember years ago as a teenager, on the one and only time we went as a family to France. We stayed for a few days in the Paris apartment of my Mum's old friend, while she was away.  Anyway, Mummy couldn't understand why there were no clothes lines, especially with such good weather. There WAS a dryer in the apartment but she'd have cut off her own hand rather than use that, 'T,he price of it! And on a day like that! Are you mad ?'
So, after doing 8 people's washing, she decided to dry it all on the apartment's large balcony, which overlooked the communal gardens of this super fancy Parisian apartment block.
Before too long, there were brightly coloured beach towels flapping over the heavily embellished railings and knickers, socks and t shirts on home made clothes horses covering every available space. In retrospect, I suppose that it would be fair to say that it looked somewhat....flamboyant, beside the quiet understated chic of the others.
And it certainly got us noticed, although I suspect our numbers and noise levels had already done that. Soon enough, there were several knocks on the door, and kindly but firmly informed, (in increasingly simplified French), that it just wasn't the done thing. Against the rules apparently.
So my poor Ma slunk back on outside and reluctantly took them down. 'Humpf, they must be made of money! (They were) What a waste putting on the dryer on a day like that!'
She couldn't get over it, while I couldn't get over the fact that she even cared! It was just soooooooo embarrassing. Mummy, I feel soooo wick for you.
Now of course, I totally get it but I'm just still not sure when that came about. Maybe it's like finding yourself drooling over a Lakeland catalogue, or getting excited about an easy recipe for a weekday dinner?  It creeps up on you, and one day you realize you're just like your Mother, and YOUR child's looking at you, and you KNOW they're thinking 'She's just so sad. I'll NEVER be like that.'
Ah sure, maybe they will and maybe they won't .....I suppose we'll just have to wait and see!