Washing Machine Blues

I wish I could send home a bottle of sweet bakery perfume; this Boulanger came recommended and oh, were they right. I'm sure it's the "pre-fermentation poolish", hand kneading, and 5 generations of practice that makes for their guarantee... But wowza they do it right.

Which is great, because since I managed to trip a breaker - details to follow - and have no clue how to turn it back on, it's bread with butter for dinner! And wine. Only about six bucks for this beauty. Always a help.

Now that I'm full of buttered bread and wine I'll tell you of today's travels to the outskirts of Paris. Not a pretty sight. It's taken a little while for me to warm up to the "city" aspect of my inarguably cushy situation, what with cigarette butts along the curb, graffiti, dog poo on the sidewalk, homeless people in doorways... Just like any other big city. It's even worse on the edges, such as you see when traveling from the airport to the city proper. Tenements, tons of graffiti, and even more trash strewn about. That's where I went today, believing that the documents my bank mailed to me were being held at a central pick-up location, ostensibly because - I'd read this - the postal service is notorious for not trying very hard to make deliveries. But no, I got all the way to the UPS headquarters to discover "non, Madame, votre coulis n'est pas ici" - the package wasn't there, and in fact UPS had attempted a delivery this morning... But I have no phone. Oops. So I promised I would be back at the door by 5 pm, and at 4:55 a very cute delivery man rang the bell, panting only slightly at climbing five flights to secure my signature. What service! Meanwhile the journey home had allotted enough time for me to visit the above-mentioned bakery and do some yoga in celebration, before the whole no-electricity portion of the night began...

Which, at long last, brings us to the headline for today's post. This, dear friends, seemingly innocuous-looking washing machine has been running for seven hours. On a mere handful of clothes. No joke. I started it at noon, went on my whole UPS adventure, and it was still running when I turned on the oven to start dinner... Which is when things went awry. Too much draw for the electrical system apparently, though precisely why this little lavage has been going on and on I have no idea. Trust me, I've consulted numerous blogs and posts about the notoriously confounding French washing machine, but no one (who isn't French) seems to have any idea how the things work. Trust the Germans for engineering, I say. Not wanting to disrupt its scheduled cycle, I didn't think it prudent to stop before it was through - and I wanted to start dinner - but alas I was mistaken :-(

Thankfully, a giddy visit to the creperie that delighted me yesterday - they will definitely see repeat business for this - to consult with an English-speaking waiter empowered me to knock on a neighbor's door two flights down. I picked the one with a heart sticker on it, which revealed a very helpful dad-figure who fiddled with the breaker box and got things running again, hallelujah!, including the washer - which is still at it. How, oh how, do I turn the thing off, so I can just wring out my clothes and be done with it?!?

It's too late to bake potiron (pumpkin) tonight... My relieved buzz and I wish you goodnight :-)

 

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