Thursday, May 9, 2013
I go about once a year.
It is a huge production.
The dryers always take an hour longer than I think they should.
I usually forget detergent or run out of quarters.
Last year a mentally disturbed fellow patron threatened to kill me because I smiled at her (what was I thinking?)
But, I did it. I didn't even run out of quarters.
The down comforters and sleeping bags are now hot and fluffy; free of any vomit and urine
I feel so proud; it is absurd. I feel like maybe for a moment, I am on top of everything and maybe I should be featured in a Real Simple article.
(A week has gone by and the sleeping bag in the bottom of the basket has been saturated with vomit. It's in a bag in the basement waiting for the dump or my next trip to the laundromat.)