BUT! Someday there will have to be a washer/dryer in my home (or at least in the apartment complex I will live in).
Ugh, how I hate laundromats with their dirty floors , flourescent-lighting, and the "So San Francisco" reality that they will be visited--at least once during each trip I've taken to the laundromat--by a loony transient whom is sometimes high on some drug or another. Our "local laundromat" features groovy, high tech benefits such as the "Computerized Dryer":

I honestly believe that this dryer has a secret mission to torture techies by flaunting its ultra-retro coolness via its space-age, fast forward font. All of this cheesiness I could handle with a slight ironic smirk if only I could feed the machine a damn debit or credit card to pay for my loads of laundry.
This ultra-ironic-hipness is only superseded by the super funny reality of the Marxist Washing Machine Rebellion of 2007 wherein a washer lathered up enough courage to spit out his master's dreams of clean clothes.
Luckily, this mess wasn't mine, but I did have quite the blast trying not to slip-slide my way through it when moving clothes from washers to dryers.

Since we've moved to San Francisco I've had more than one dream (actual dreams, folks, not just daydreams!) that we live in a house/apartment with a gigantic laundry room and top of the line washer and dryer. Perhaps living with the parental unit for two months this summer has spoiled me as they had recently purchased the Whirlpool Duet and the washer is quick, water-efficient, and quiet as a mouse, while the dryer is speedy and perfect.
Nevertheless, my dreams of a washer and dryer will continue to be just dreams. Until then, John and I have decided we are going to pay a local cleaner to wash and dry our clothes. Life is too short to spend slip-sliding away at a dirty laundromat with weirdoes running in and out!