There are days when I stuff my clothes into my tiny, leaking washing machine, and pull them out, two hours later, sopping and dripping onto the kitchen floor. The weak spin cycle is useless.
There are days when I lean out the window, and display these soaking-wet garments on one of the the three window-wide lines outside of my kitchen, crammed into my small allotted area for all the world to see.
There are other days when I might wrestle the drying rack out from the space between the wardrobe and the wall. I will set it up in my living/dining room, and hang out each piece in the center of the house, curving my body around the instrument any time I need to pass through the largest room in the apartment.
There are days when I take the food out of my child-sized refrigerator and note that I need to de-ice the cubby hole I call a freezer.
There are days when I transfer these fridge morsels into my itty bitty oven. Often on foil, as no real-person-sized trays will fit.
There are days when it is 95 degrees and I perch myself uncomfortably in front of a small non-rotational fan I personally (poorly) assembled.
There are days when I think all of this is charming. These are the days when I think I must be single handedly saving the world with the immeasurably small eco-footprint that my tiny, inconvenient appliances produce.
And then there are days when I open up my 300+ euro electric bill and think:
what. the. eff.
Inconvenience comes at a high cost.