Like most Parisian apartments, we do not have a dryer. Sure, we have an appliance, in our kitchen, called a washer/dryer, but the truth of the matter is that it will wash, and then spin our clothes to a state of not-sopping, but it does not actually work like a dryer. We have no outdoor clothesline, either, so this means that we hang our clothes on plastic racks to dry.
In general, our best spot for the racks is in the guest room/office, and I have recently realized that people on skype can see it as it sits behind me. So now, when I know I'm about to have a video call, I generally check for bras and underwear and move them stretegically to less prominent spots on the rack. Sheets require spreading out on furniture, or from rack to rack. There is a laundromat on the island, and Anthony has gone there once for comforters, but I would rather hand wash every single item in our bathtub than go to a laundromat; for whatever reason, that has always been my most-detested errand.
Not having a dryer saves on energy, and even my neighbor in San Francisco often uses her clothesline, pointing out the environmental benefits. While I totally applaud and support this sort of green behavior, I have to admit that I vastly prefer my clothes and towels when they've been dried automatically. I've heard tell that some ex-pats here in Paris have been known to claim they miss their dryers more than their families. I can't say I'm to that point (yet?), but let's just say that the alternate title for this blog post would have been "My Jeans Are Crunchy."
In general, our best spot for the racks is in the guest room/office, and I have recently realized that people on skype can see it as it sits behind me. So now, when I know I'm about to have a video call, I generally check for bras and underwear and move them stretegically to less prominent spots on the rack. Sheets require spreading out on furniture, or from rack to rack. There is a laundromat on the island, and Anthony has gone there once for comforters, but I would rather hand wash every single item in our bathtub than go to a laundromat; for whatever reason, that has always been my most-detested errand.
Not having a dryer saves on energy, and even my neighbor in San Francisco often uses her clothesline, pointing out the environmental benefits. While I totally applaud and support this sort of green behavior, I have to admit that I vastly prefer my clothes and towels when they've been dried automatically. I've heard tell that some ex-pats here in Paris have been known to claim they miss their dryers more than their families. I can't say I'm to that point (yet?), but let's just say that the alternate title for this blog post would have been "My Jeans Are Crunchy."
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