Apparently asking to have one shirt and one pair of pants dry cleaned in the span of five hours is entirely impossible short of slipping c-notes through the drop-slot along with the pants (which reminds me, i didn’t check the pockets for cash…).
So, i am still not packed. I never pack until the last minute, really, so actually having picked out the clothes i want to take with me and laundering them seems to be a huge step in the right direction if you don’t count against me that i just gave my favourite three pairs of pants to the dry-cleaner who will guard them safely behind bullet-proof glass until Wednesday. That’s three less things for me to pack, i suppose…
[…] Would you believe i’ve avoided picking up my dry-cleaning for a week because i missed the pickup day and was afraid of being reprimanded by the dry cleaner? Seriously. I have to walk by it every day to get on and off my block, but i was too afraid of what excuse i’d need for not having picked up my favourite slacks and dress shirt. It’s funny which sorts of social interactions can really stop me in my tracks. Anyhow, once i managed to get in and out of there (without any commentary on my lateness and neglect) i cleaned my room, did laundry, and paid bills. So, yeah, maybe it stinks, but at least i’m not wasting it. […]