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It is fair to say that I find most of life unmanageable. This is because I am both spoilt and lazy. And there are also so many more things I’d rather do than the mundane tasks of life.

However, the older I get, the more I’m realising that some things just need to get done. Like going to the dry cleaner.

Now, I must point out how going to the dry cleaners at The Mom’s differs rather significantly than going to the dry cleaners here, in east London.

First off, The Mom has a car. This makes the carrying of many things slightly easier. One just pops them in the car and is away. I do not have a car. Which is just as well because I’m no fan of driving and can’t drive on the left hand side of the road intentionally or with the sort of consistency that’s generally required. So I have to carry my dry cleaning things to and from. Which possibly might not be so bad if I were, say, not arthritic of back and a big bigger (so the clean clothes don’t drag on the floor).

Also, and this is just an aside, as I know The Mom doesn’t frequent this particular dry cleaners, but there is, as an option, a drive through one. Oh, North America.

Secondly, The Mom lives in North America. Which is a magical place where things like useful shops and suchlike are open later than standard office hours. Here, in Britain, things are different. Yes, some of the shops are open a bit later in London, but do not for one moment think that this makes things easier to achieve. I could, I suppose, drag my dry cleaning into central London where I work, leave it there, and pick it up en route home, but that would mean a lot more carrying of things that are heavy.

So before taking my things to the dry cleaner, I had to suss out the neighbourhood for a dry cleaner that was open before I was expected at work and stayed open to the time at which I return from my cubicle. That alone took me a while to work out because a lot of the shops round here have these metal grates they pull down and no signs which makes working out what they might do in the day time hours a bit tricky.

And though I do have European holidays (ie 26 days a year) I really think it’s absurd to take a day off in order to get this sort of thing done.

Thirdly, dry cleaning is expensive. I know this because whenever I’m at home and The Mom very kindly takes my things to the dry cleaners she is generally aghast at the bill. Though, the largesse of the bill might also be due to the level of filth incurred on the garments. It’s hard to say.

But it had to be done. I noticed, whilst wearing the dress (that was originally The Mom’s) and is popular amongst my friends, that it smelled funny. Now, my office is not short of funny smells so it took me a while to work out, via deduction and logic, that it was actually me what smelled a bit off. I gathered up what I imagined were the most offensive items (ie ones that had not been cleaned for the duration of my employment, which is about 18 months now) and marched them off to the cleaner.

Turns out, it wasn’t as expensive as I’d imagined, but then, I’m a fan of Worst Case Scenarios. You imagine the worst and generally it doesn’t happen, thus you spend a lot of time being pleasantly surprised.

I’m not sure how often I’ll go, I’m still rather a big fan of airing out one’s clothes. Oh, and just to set the record straight, there are no spills down the front of my clothes. Just the general funk and filth of London.

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