Saved, Part One

This prolly sounds-oh-so-trivial to those of you with normal lives, which is to say being in possession of your very own washer and dryer.  Read also as: NOT having to deal with laundromats.  Ever.

I shall now join your company.  Which isn't to say I figgered out a way to squeeze said big-ass appliances into El Casa Móvil De Pennington.  Nope, not that, for it would be a near impossible task and I say "near" only because we all know nothing is actually impossible.  

Just this: I found out this morning that our local dry cleanery also provides a "wash and fold" service for a mere one and half Washingtons per pound of dirty laundry.  That sounds more than reasonable to me and we dropped off our filled-to-bursting laundry bag on their premises about 20 minutes ago.  We shall be rewarded with packages of freshly laundered Levis, tee shirts, towels and the like on the morrow... and for a mere pittance of a fee.  Which we'll gladly pay so as not to spend four hours in the company of oh-so-interesting people and their oh-so-interesting offspring doing less-than-interesting things.

Ah.  Saved.  In many more ways than one.  You really have NO idea what a welcome development this is, Gentle Reader.  It kinda sorta takes me back to Former Happy Days Part II, when we dropped our laundry off each and every week with this really nice Vietnamese couple just up the street from my apartment in Beautiful-Beserkeley-By-The-Bay.