As a solemn acknowledgment of my recently discovered Scottish heritage (not to mention this foray into self-proprietorship), I have been scrimping where I can, like at the laundromat. A couple of years ago, when we lived in DUMBO, we had a door-to-door pickup service, where we’d stuff our filthy clothes into a bag, call up a Laundry Dude, and watch him toss the majority of our wardrobe into the trunk of a rusty American land yacht from our window as we sipped a mint julep or brand-name cola.

But then we moved into an apartment that wasn’t fixed directly over a large truck garage, and I don’t know if it was the lack of carbon monoxide every morning or what, but I started actually carrying the loads of laundry up to the closest laundromat, where I’d plop the same bag (now ripping at the seams) onto the scale and let the friendly Cuban ladies wash and fold it.

Then, in the heat of summer, I decided it wouldn’t be that much harder just to wash it myself. So I did. And it has sucked by the gallon of funky sweat.

All this is to highlight my amazement at ‘Harvey Washbangers,’ a laundromat in College Station, Texas, that includes not only wash-and-fold services and a dry cleaners, but a fully-stocked bar and restaurant. You can actually take in your laundry, get a plate of chicken fingers or a nice salad, and then pick it all up clean and folded. This should be the new minimum standard for laundromats.

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