Dirty laundry catches up with all of us.

Only bringing a carry on suitcase this trip, and looking at my pile of dirty clothes on the bed, I am down to my last clean socks and shirt. I could have brought a bigger suitcase but I wanted to travel as light as I could. Doing with less always takes more imagination than taking the kitchen sink.

In my neighborhood, this lavenderia takes my clothes in the morning, gives me a receipt, then hands my clothes back clean, folded in a plastic bag, after lunch. The charges are six bucks, which seems high, but, then again, someone has to deal with them by hand. Just putting them into the washer and dryer, unloading them, folding them nicely, putting them in a plastic bag, writing up the receipt, taking my money, all takes someone a percentage of their total life hours.

It turns out, when I get back and ask, the La Puerta Roja  guesthouse, where I’m hanging my hat this trip, has a washer and dryer I could have used for free, just paying for the detergent I use.

Next trip back, I’ll remember to ask first, and act second.

The trouble with learning most new lessons is that you probably won’t be able to use what you have just painfully learned any time soon.

Since dirty laundry is a traveler’s constant companion, I resolve, next time, not to be so impatient.

After all, dirty clothes don’t care how long they sit in a pile on the floor.

 

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