Jules has to do laundry. And she has to steal some more of my clothes. Her place is nice—it’s more expensive than mine—but her place doesn’t have on-site laundry. There’s a laundromat right downstairs, but she doesn’t like to use it. She does her laundry at my place. I have an upright washer and dryer—one on top of the other?—Jules loves that.
"It’s just the right size," she says, patting the side of the dryer. "It’s not too big, it’s not too small, it washes and dries the clothes nice and quick!" She always goes on about it—and she talks to the dryer, too. "Go little dryer, go. Do your thing. There’s more drying left in you..I can see!" It’s like she should be a kindergarten teacher or something. "If I had this washer and dryer I would do my clothes every day," she says. But she pretty much does. "Do you want me to do your sheets?"