watching the clothes go round

just returned from a stint at a local laundromat. my washer/dryer just ain't a'big enough for my comforter; and since it had been probably around a year since the damn thing had been washed, i thought it high time to make my way there. i had avoided going to the laundromat for weeks since i didn't want to be a target for the sniper duo; but i thought today the coast was clear, and i ventured out.

this time, i went to the laundromat in Westover. usually, i go to la lavanderia where i am literally the only english-speaking person in the place. not a big deal as long as i know what i am doing and don't require any assistance. mi espanol no es bueno y'know, despite 3 semesters of spanish and two years of life in miami being mistaken as someone who actually was a native speaker. (and don't ask me about my famous Zayres flea bomb/por matar los insectos tale or you will cough up a lung.)

anyway, only two guys total at the laundromat today. one guy who, i am quite sure, thought i was a psycho (lord help me, i opened the door of the oh-mi-gawd-sized washer to put in some late soap and some water spilled out, and suddenly, i am branded as the bad girl of the laundry) because of my lack of ept when it comes to industrial-sized machines; and one guy who basically looked like bootsy collins meets eldridge cleaver. (you had to see the knee-high, lace-up boots.) i read my library book about The Mitfords (and talk about a dotty family – whew, those sisters were strange agents!) and just tried to bide my time.

a thousand quarters later, i am so very glad i finally got off my ass. clean comforters are good comforters. and i think i am going to curl up with mine now.

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