The idea was that we save up ratty underwear for the trip. Then, we pack six pairs, wash them all halfway through the journey, then toss them out daily the last six days. It worked on paper.
Halfway through our trip we find a washer & dryer (they don't have them at B&Bs and guest houses) and did two loads of laundry. But first I had to get change. Then I spent ten minutes trying to figure out how the damn things worked, and still get it wrong twice. Then it took forever to dry.
I had to keep running back and forth to the laundry room late at night to see if they were done.
And they never were.
And I was tired. And grumpy.
And as I was spreading everything out across the spare beds and over the chairs and off the doorknobs to dry so I could go to bed, I swore that on the next trip we would take the underwear that I came so close to purchasing but then, in a fit of frugalness, stuffed back on the shelves and walked away. At the time I felt virtuous. After all, at $18 a pop—and we'd need two each—I had saved us a small bundle.
The night of laundry hell convinced me to spend the damn money.