It's one of those bits of whimsy that I'll share here today. As the temperature drops and the flannel and fleece make an appearance, the static in the laundry reaches shocking new heights. Ha ha - give me a break, I haven't seen "real" people in days. I don't typically use dryer static sheets or any sort of liquid additive. My mother, the textile archivist, preaches against these as they degrade the fabrics. [Shhh, don't tell, but I keep Outdoor Fresh Bounce in the cabinet for the after-Scout-camping-laundry]
Anyway, I have seen dryer balls on the internet and wondered how well they worked. There's the plastic ones and the all wool ones. Since I happened to have a stash of wool roving with no real purpose, I decided to experiment. I followed this tutorial for a few made from wool yarn and some general guidelines for creating felted wool balls from roving. I had to cold water wash my roving first because it was a generous gift from a yoga buddy who owns alpacas. I didn't want my laundry smelling like sun-burned alpaca fur!
Alpaca roving, ready to go
The results?? The static in the laundry is greatly decreased, but not eliminated. I wonder if I need to add more balls to each load? I have been using two per load and mine are a bit smaller than the ones I've seen on Etsy, for example. I will continue to experiment, but please let me know if you've used any type of dryer balls. I will note that I just don't like the look of the simple wrapped yarn ball (below, upper left). I like the more felted, melded look. I crocheted a tiny spiral ball and stuffed it with strands of the same yarn - just for a better appearance (below, lower left).
Pottery bowl by Classic Rock (circa 5th grade)
As I picked what song lyric to use, I couldn't help but think back to our wedding reception. I danced to the Electric Slide with Mr. Doug, a long-time family friend who's children I'd babysat. We laughed as we danced and he reminded me to enjoy marriage - promising that it would be fun. Then, we did the slide, side step thingie and I stepped on the hem of my wedding gown, ripping a portion of the lace hem. I looked up to see my mother's face contort in horror as she watched dozens of pearled beads slide across the floor. She had spent the two months leading up to the wedding hand beading the six or seven yards of lace that hemmed the train of my dress.
Mama, having spent several hours beading for my own beloved child, I now understand the horror you felt. Is it too late to say, I'm sorry?