That's Not My Sock

My washing machine doesn't arrive until next week.  Which means that I have been here a month and only washed one load of clothes (thanks, Fran!).

Needless to say the situation was getting dire...

So I sucked it up and went down the street to the laverie.

I bumped into Jenna, another American assistant who, while I was folding my clothes, found a sock in her load...that wasn't hers.  Yikes!

Nine euros and 72 minutes later, I had some clean and dry clothes and a towel that was still (?!) damp.

The entire expedition proved worthwhile as the sounds of a trumpet sonata escaped through this fenetre and accompanied me as I walked home.

Could my life be more French?