Today the laundromat washer ate one of my best shirts. It shredded it and tore off a button. It also destroyed two of my socks (each a different color, to add insult to injury). The shredded fabric appears to have made it’s way into the innards of the machine, with the result that all of my clothes smelled like burning plastic when I took them out. The smell seems to have gone away in the dryer, but I am still frustrated. At this rate, in a few months the only article of clothing I own will be my bathrobe. I hate laundromats.
On a more positive note, I recovered a long-lost possession. My recording booth, which had been sitting in Simmons since before I went to England, was still there, untouched in plain sight. Today, we moved it to the bedroom of a current Chorallary, which should make it easier to start recording our next CD.