Well, we're movin' on up.

Some crackhead stole my clothes from the vestibule of my dry cleaner. Sadly, this is not the first time I, the law, and the laundry industry have met at a crossroads.

Many years ago I lived in a dark, barren land called Columbus, Ohio. I kid Columbus. Actually, we had many good times there. One cold day I took a linen bed cap to this dry cleaner. Classic Cleaners, I think, was the name. It came back with a four foot long brown stain from top left to bottom right. The woman who returned it to me said that it was likely from something she pronounced as "perk." Educated as I am now in the ways of the dry cleaner, I now know that this "perk" is the key chemical used in dry cleaning, and that when mixed with water, it can cause stains. I requested a reclean.

Reclean complete. Stain still there. Repeat.

Stain still there. At this point the classically debonair owner of said Classic Cleaners (his name was Homer) refused to perform another recleaning. When confronted with the words of his own employee re: the "perk," he told me without hesitation or shame that my cat must have made the stain. His suggestion was that we have the comforter tested for urine (at my expense), and if it was not in fact cat urine, he would do another recleaning. Blood rushing to my face, I heatedly explained that a cat has neither the capacity nor the dexterity to piss about a gallon over a four foot straight line. Also, it didn't smell. This fell on deaf ears; this meant war.