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For years in San Francisco, I lived without a washer and dryer. Every week, I had a standing invitation at my happily-married friends’ home, where they would feed me dinner while I would intermittently attend to laundering sheets and towels in their basement. I have fond memories of us sitting around the kitchen table together, but it evoked a sense of childlike singleness. That’s why, these days, I LOVE my in-house washer and dryer. There’s not a load I take for granted.
Photo by Matteo Curci [1]