I am home now.
WITH MY DIRTY LAUNDRY.
The laundromat that came highly recommended has been closed for over a year.
I discovered this after wandering around amongst the suits and well-heeled on Yonge Street searching for it while looking like a homeless person with my green garbage bags.
Finally stumbled into a store – arms killing me – and made inquiries. Was told of another laundromat a few blocks away. Driving over there I ended up behind a garbage truck on a street too narrow for passing. Stinky. Pee-yew.
There wasn’t a soul to be seen in this next laundromat and it looked like a great place for a murder. Decrepit. Dingy. The change machine wasn’t working & I’d used up all my change in the parking meter at the previous non-existent laundromat. No bank or corner store to get any change. Waited ten minutes for a human being to appear and then gave up.
Arrived home to a phone call informing me the parts for my washing machine have finally been ordered & a tentative repair day will be next week.
As for the dirty laundry sitting in the hallway? I shall think about it tomorrow.
I still have clean underwear.
Life is good.