Lest you imagine us to be living a glamorous jet set life in London, let me give you a little glimpse into our laundry. No, we don’t have a dryer.
We hang dry ALL of our laundry.
When we went flat hunting we somehow overlooked the fact that the one we picked didn’t have a dryer. We thought it came with one of those fancy European washer/dryer combos that so many people have across the pond. Turns out it is just a washer. I discovered this little oversight on day two of our expat adventure. I spent the next couple of weeks grieving:
Denial – “There must be a dry button on this thing somewhere, I just need to re-read the manual one more time.”
Anger – “I hate London.”
Bargaining – “I promise to only use non-toxic, plant based, fair trade detergent for the rest of my life if someone will just add a dry button to this machine.”
Depression – “I have nothing to wear (sob), everything is STILL drying (sob), we will NEVER EVER be able to leave the flat because NOTHING will ever be dry and we will starve (sob), and someone will find us three weeks later half-eaten by Alsatians.”
Acceptance – “At least my skinny jeans won’t shrink anymore.”
The funny thing is I’m completely used to it now. Yes, we ALWAYS have drying racks hanging in our room. And sometimes we have sheets draped down the staircase and over tables and chairs. But they make great forts and think of all the savings on our electric bill. Besides, if we’re really in a pinch, there is a pub across the street from the neighborhood launderette so we can always have a pint while we watch our sheets dry!
chellabella 