Thus I now have a clean terrycloth bathrobe after its quarterly trip to the laundromat. (Also a clean towel and terry sheet, but that's by the by.) The bathrobe as always is great for dripping into post-shower but far too heavy for my not fully functional washer and dryer to handle, so laundromat and $6 it is. (The price and the ennui is why it gets washed every 3-4 months and not the monthly it probably needs.) And as I was folding it in neat Marie Kondo fashion on the laundromat table I realized, for the first time in 3? 4? years that there are actually two sets of belt loops and I don't need to fasten it around my hips because it will in fact fasten around my waist.
The laundromat will be seeing more of me soon as the temps climb into the 80sF this weekend (two weeks after it was snowing, yes) because the flannel sheets must all be washed. A good thing that it's been very empty on two of my three visits. Observe that people in-store are more likely to be wearing masks than those on the sidewalk
I have a cheque and a signed form for my accountant so he can send my e-taxes in and I can get my rebate. (Not sure, with the dizzying and unlikely sum listed as my gross income for the year, that I still qualify for any of the assistance programs any more). Mail is running slow so I went to the postal outfit to see about special delivery. One customer allowed in at a time and the guy before me has *boxes* of manila envelopes, with labels that need to be xeroxed and forms filled for each one. After five minutes on achy legs I go off for a latte at the open coffee house, whose scones fortunately and alas, have all been sold. Drink in empty laundromat after transferring clothes to dryer, go back to empty PO, and discover that Canada Post's in house delivery service, Purolator (spits), is months behind in delivery and my only alternative is Fedex at $40. 'I can give you a special rate,' says Postie, 'maybe $32.' To deliver a letter. Nah, better to hope for that week's delivery from regular mail, or send it in a cab.
Then came home, washed five masks, cooked chicken livers finally, and called myself productive.