Laundry triage

I love many things about my humble apartment. One thing I will not miss about the lifestyle I'm leaving behind is laundry. I hate carting it up and down stairs, sometimes not being able to do it when I want to, having to hoard loonies and quarters, the poor reliability of the machines, and especially the way they chew my clothes. I gave up going to the laundromat about a year ago because the machines here are cheaper and more convenient, but in that year the washer has worn out a pile of work t-shirts that had served me well for three years.

The new house has a second-floor laundry with uptodate machines, even a gas dryer. Heaven. Danny and I weren't even looking for that convenience, but since seeing it I've had several wet dreams.

I'm home early today doing laundry probably for the last time in the dumpy room downstairs with the machines that scream. This afternoon I'm driving to the cottage for the annual Breeding Bird Survey.

Oh yes, and what I hate most about this old way of doing things? Laundry triage. With limited time and change, I can only afford to do one load, so the same items keep filtering down to the bottom of the hamper.