We don't do dogs

(I'll do a couple of posts today, so read on after this one...)

I picked up our laundry on the way out of Vaison yesterday -- it's nice to have clean clothes again even if it would have been cheaper to throw them away and buy new ones than to pay for the laundry services. This dog was waiting for his laundry to be done, too, and seemed to have quite a conversation with the proprietress when we walked in together. (I let him walk in with me -- why not -- the French allow dogs in their restaurants, why not their laundries?)

The woman at the counter tried to explain why they couldn't get a particular spot out of one of my shirts, but of course I couldn't understand a word she was saying, so I just responded in English with a bunch of non-sensical gibberish, namely, "Oh, that? That's from me trying to learn how to eat like a European...you know, fork in left hand, knife in right hand, food balanced on the back of the fork until it gets half-way to my mouth where I dump in on the front of my shirt and then pick it up with my fingers and stick it in my mouth...while, all the while, my knife hand is watching with mild amusement wondering why I no longer eat like an American...you know?"

"Oui, Monsieur!"