I see London, I see France

Part of the challenge and most of the reward here is simply realizing that I can accomplish the small things, like doing the laundry. I was so nervous about doing the laundry! For months every time I'd think about it I'd have to stop thinking about it because it made me so tense. I don't worry about terrorists or volcanoes or muggers or murderers, or losing my passport or even getting lost, but the laundry! Who knows. I'm probably suppressing flashbacks from a previous life as a charwoman. So by rights and relative to my approximate level of anxiety, the heavens should have parted when I entered the laundromat this morning, and a divine light shone down upon my face, but none of that happened. It looked just like a regular laundromat! There were directions in English right there on the wall, and a nice French lady helped me through the whole process anyway, and I ended up destroying nothing. There wasn't so much as a Bobby-Brady-like meltdown with soap bubbles belching forth from the machine. (In my mind I'd worked it out that I would take the whole place down with me in a sort of liquid detergent blaze of glory.) So while some may storm the Bastille and change the face of histoire, I will take my (size medium) victories where I find them.

What can I say? Viva la panties!

p.s. Please don't tell my mother I showed you my panties. She would positively perish from this earth.