laundry day

I remember the days when I used to have a washer and dryer in my building fondly. Now in Paris, I must fold my dirty clothes into a small suitcase and take them on a brisk 10-minute walk until I reach my closest laundromat. The washers are small and overpriced, and the dryer only runs on 8-minute intervals. Last weekend though, with my mom and little sister visiting, the entire experience was a treat.

Our Saturday began innocently enough with brunch at the café within the Jacquemart-André Museum. 

Their basic menu is overrun by salads (speaking to the more mature "ladies who lunch" crowd) but also includes a 28.50 euro formule for weekend brunches: filtered coffee (or tea, or hot chocolate), fresh orange juice, a bread basket (complete with croissants and pain au chocolat), and a plate with eggs baked in herbs, a dill-potato salad, and the freshest smoked salmon over a mixed salad.

Oh, and to remind even the most touristic visitor that we are, in fact, in France, une pâtisserie au choix for dessert. I hardly had any room for it, but my few bites of their beautiful mille-feuille were amazing.

At the end of our delicious meal, I suggested that we aid our digestion with a walk to my apartment. They agreed. And so, we strolled from Boulevard Haussmann and into Parc Monceau...

Although I'd introduced it to them just days before, they too couldn't help but be entranced by its seasonal beauty. I clearly took more than a handful of photos in an attempt to capture it.

Then I mentioned how I hadn't had the chance to do laundry in "forever". My mom immediately took the opportunity to suggest we spend the afternoon crossing such task off my to-do list. She knew I'd otherwise wait until they'd left, and needed one lower-key afternoon. My little sister assured me further by boasting about her pristine folding skills acquired at her part-time job. Conveniently, I hadn't planned alternative :).

We distributed the laundry into that small suitcase and two other bags (yes, I had a lot) and each brought one to my market street. After depositing all of it into an 18kg washer and beginning the wash, I took them up and down Rue Levis to my favorite boulangerie, a clothing store, random stands, and the supermarket to which I'm proud to have a membership card for. Fifty minutes later, we returned to the laundromat.

Together we ran the dryer more than once, folded the warm, clean clothes, and brought them back to my apartment. I put everything away while my mom hung up the delicates and my little sister made my bed. They're actually the sweetest. I miss them already... to be continued...