Now, I'm not complaining, but I'd really, really, really like to wash my sheets. My lovely new white egyptian cotton sheets, which, of course, can't go in the dryer. I think I'll have to tempt fate and wash them - I can always fling a line up down the hall - or across the living room. Sigh. Visions of summer sheets flapping in the breeze, casting delicate shadows across my increasingly verdant lawn {is there such a shade as Shocking Green? Cos I think my grass has invented it} are dissipating fast.
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