
By the looks of this picture, one would think I am moving back to Virginia. All my belongings—every single thing that was in my apartment—are stuffed into Vera Bradley duffles and laundry baskets, and I am grinning that stupid grin because I am thinking 'Bon Voyage!'
Well, these are not all my belongs. In fact, this is probably not even half. Those three duffles—one on each shoulder, one under my chin, and two baskets are full of dirty garments. YES, I let my dirty laundry get out-of-control. And just when you thought I wouldn't do the unthinkable, these are ONLY what's unshrinkable. YEP, I still have a nice pile of (what I call) high-maintenance clothes. They cannot be washed in hot water and they certainly cannot be tossed in the dryer. This includes skinny jeans, already-too-tight spandex and crop-top prone tank tops.
The only reason I am smiling in this picture (taken by my tolerant boyfriend, Richard) is because I was about to pack up my car and drive to Flamingo Cleaners where they so graciously wash, dry and fold your clothes. And so, my dirty garments are in the hands of a not-so-cheap laundromat (totally worth the money and time), because—did I mention?— I don't have a washer and dryer in my tiny matchbox. Nor do I have a dishwasher. But we'll save that for another day.




