When I was putting away my Esther-washed laundry, I noticed three things:
1. She ironed everything, including my socks. Just like my grandma used to do! She ironed my underwear, too, but Esther can't because in Zambia you have to wash your own underwear and pretend like it doesn't exist. (Don't ask me. I don't understand it either.) (On vacation my friend & I came upon a girl rinsing her undies in a stream, and I secretly took her picture! I still feel a little guilty about it. But it's not like I'm going to post it on my dang blog or anything!)
2. It all smelled really nice.
3. And it was all really clean. Those ironed socks? I had gotten used to them being orange, the color of the dirt that worms its way into my shoes whenever I go jogging. I thought it was like Alabama dirt that just doesn't come out, but it turns out that it does if you have the magic touch, like Esther!
She says it's because her hands are strong. Could be juju. Who's to say?
She's also pretty stoked that I'm writing about her here, and says you can call her and she'll do your laundry, too.