Dirty Laundry

There's only one problem with traveling as lightly as I have on this trip: the laundry. The hotel in Austria was willing to take care of it, for just over $7 per tee shirt and only slightly less for a pair of undies. I'm pretty sure I didn't even pay that much for either of those items to begin with... Someone found the only self-serve laundromat in town, but I never got over there, so now I'll have to do a wash in Auvergne, in a village where I know there's no laundromat.

Annie kindly offers me her machine, and as I hang my things to dry on the line behind the house, I try to hide my utilitarian undies behind the longer items. I know they'll be a source of humiliation, because they don't meet the French standard for la séduction, and this was always a running joke at my expense. Unfortunately, Annie beats me up the hill when the clothes are dry and says, "Ahh, toujours des culottes Petit Bateau!" ("Still wearing little girl underwear!", i.e., sturdy, full coverage, basic colors...) I say, "Hey! At least one of those has some lace on it..." Everyone laughs.

Later, when we go swimming, 69-year-old Annie does an impressive slight-of-hand poolside change out of her clothes and into her swimsuit. As I pick up her undies to put into the beach bag, I marvel: they are a practically weightless confection of fine lace and satin, truly a thing of beauty. She says nonchalantly, "Oh, la, la, I'll be so glad when thongs go out of style; they're really uncomfortable." Note to self: hit the end-of-summer sales when you get back to Paris...