You’ll be pleased to know I own about 15 pairs of underpants. That’s enough to avoid doing any washing for two weeks, four if I turn them inside out. Being the new-age man that I am I do my own washing, which is a royal pain in the ass since it has to be done by hand, and as the marina refuses to provide any kind of laundry service I have to undertake this task regularly.
Recently, however, it is not the washing of the underpants that is causing me the grief. It is the damn monsoon. A week ago I washed seven of my underpants, leaving me another seven to see me through the week. I hung those seven pairs of underpants out to dry seven days ago and for seven days now it has rained incessantly, every day. Seven days later and I now have another seven pairs of underpants to wash, and since the first seven never dried, I had to wash all 14 pairs.
It is a sad day today as Liz leaves to return to the UK for two months. Perhaps then this unfortunate washing endeavor is well timed!
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