 |
| Look way way down and there's the torment |
At home, if the wind blows an article of clothing off my clothesline, I can bend down and pick it up. But the clothesline here is five stories high. We don't have a clothes dryer (I understand that very very few Croatians do), so the clothesline gets used almost every day. Between the bora winds and my unfamiliarity with high-altitude clothes drying, things fall.
When that happens, we can either go through the basement catacombs to get to the tiny enclosed outdoor area, or when something has gotten stuck say, two stories up, we can yell up at a neighbor to pluck it off and let it fall down to the ground so we can retrieve it (this is what happened to a pair of Jonah's soccer pants -- they were dangling from an area we could not reach for about two months before we noticed someone in a nearby window, and with sign language and pigeon Croatian, asked him to free the black sweatpants).
 |
| Zoomed in |
But last week, my favorite pair of bluejeans -- my only pair -- fell. Yes, they're about a size 4 or 6 in case you were trying to read the label. They fell into the "courtyard" of another building. They are not dangling near someone's window. There is a 10 foot high cement wall separating our courtyards. I do not know anyone who lives in that building who could go to the ground floor and toss them over the cement wall. In fact, because of all the funky corners and lack of any identifying building traits (which are on the fronts of buildings, but not the backs), I couldn't even tell you which property they are on.
So it appears that they are lost forever, and every time I hang clothes on the line, I see my jeans just lying there with the yellow clothespins still attached. It is a torment.
