Living in a pre-war building in NYC definitely has its perks and, well, not-so-perks. Most older buildings are walk-ups and they don't have laundry rooms. On the upside, the buildings are made really well, most have gorgeous wall molding and we just so happen to have TWO walk in closets, which is nearly unheard of in this city especially in a studio apartment.
As it just so happens, our building does not have a laundry room, so My Hero has so graciously accepted the dirty-clothes-duties. He schleps nearly 5 blocks to the laundry mat on his day off to sit and guard our clothes as they rotate in public machines OR he drops them off at the cleaners conveniently located right outside our building (I opt for the latter choice).
I am amazed every time we pick our clothes up from the cleaners. Every time. You see, when we drop them off, they are a jumbled mess inside the bag like this...
But when we pick them up the next day, they are a perfectly cubed column that would blend well into a game of laundry Jenga. Amazing.
It's the little things, isn't it? Early in my career I lived alone in Mississippi (of all places) and drove about 45 miles across the line to Alabama for work each day. I had a nice modern apartment in MS, but no laundry in my unit. Being single and on my own for the first time, sitting in the one small laundry room for the entire complex at night didn't thrill me, but I found out that the local laundromat had a drop off service. I'd take my whole laundry basket in and drop it on the way to work, and when I picked it up everything was folded neatly and sorted...I'd lift out a stack of shirts and put them on the shelf, lift out a stack of panties, put them in the drawer. It was heaven!
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