Bec: Does this admission really make me weird?

I’m a freak, apparently.

On a road trip on the weekend, I confessed to something that nearly caused my friend to swerve off the road and crash the car we were in.

So what did I say?

Are you ready? You may want to be sitting down. No seriously, I’ll wait.

Okay. Here goes … I don’t own a dryer.

You know, a CLOTHES DRYER.

Are you still there? Helloooooooooo?

Here’s what I’ve learned over the last 48 hours, apparently admitting to NOT OWNING A DRYER is like saying you don’t have a TV or you don’t believe in electricity or you make your own papier mache toilet paper.

“What do you mean you don’t own a dryer?” my friend said suspiciously, her eyes narrowing as though she suddenly suspected I was a hipster greenie with a cupboard full of activated almonds. “Why would you NOT own a dryer? And how the hell are you drying your washing?”

Err, I hang it out. You know, on a line. WITH PEGS.

Is that so weird?

Apparently it is. Apparently I am the only person in Australia pegging out washing in the suburbs.

It’s at this point my friend started referring to me as Mrs Tiggy Winkle, the famous Beatrix Potter character who spends her days doing washing.

She laughed. I laughed. And then I realised that Mrs Tiggy Winkle is a hedgehog with a BMI of about 127, so I stopped laughing and made her take it back.

But she continued to mock me none the less.

I think this is what you would call APPLIANCE SHAMING! I’m on the verge of starting a support group.

The truth is the reason I don’t own a dryer has less to do with strong-minded environmental principles and more to do with my obsession with TV.

Over the years conversations about buying a dryer have gone a bit like this:

Me: We have some spare money in our account. We should get a dryer.

My Husband: Did you eat the last bit of chocolate in the fridge?

Me: OR … we could buy the box set of Breaking Bad, The Walking Dead and The Sopranos instead.

Over the years we have chosen to take short holidays or buy box set DVDs or you know pay our mortgage rather than buy a dryer.

But I’m not going to lie and say it’s not a total pain in the arse not having a dryer. It’s a total pain. Sure I live in Brisbane now where the weather is nauseatingly perky and sunshiny all the time but I spent two years living in Adelaide where it rained constantly in the winter. You know how we dried our clothes and sheets and towels then? We hung them inside over the dining room chairs. Oh yes we did.

So believe me when I tell you that I understand the seductive lure of the dryer.

And now I have three small kids and I feel like I spend ALL MY TIME hanging out loads of washing and bringing them back in. But I thought everyone was doing that. Clearly not.

Suddenly, a dryer is looking rather appealing.

I mentioned this entire conversation on my Facebook page yesterday and my friends on Team Dryer raved about soft, toasty warm clothes. They talked about how much time it saved them and how much easier life is when you can just chuck all the washing in the dryer and walk away. They started whispering stories about some magical dyer called a “Condenser” which washes everything and shrinks nothing. They were trying to lure me over to the dark side of big, power-sucking appliances. They were like that skinny bad guy Arthur Slugsworth in Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.

So the question is, do I cave and buy a dryer? And if so, what should I get?

Talk to me people. Am I really the only person still pegging out washing? And if not, the Mrs Tiggy Winkle Support Group will be meeting on Tuesday. BYO pegs.

Do you own a clothes dryer? Why/Why not?