In my mind there is nothing more romantic than hurrying to the laundromat before work and it's starting to snow. Will I fall in love? Will I fall on my ass and ruin all my laundry?
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Ol' Leather-Mitts shuffles to the change maker in his Local 110 Union of Laborers 85th anniversary commemorative chore coat, but it is not the hem of his grey sweatpant calling to me through the melange of dirty laundry water and stale farts
The beat drops: A commercial for long-term life insurance plans repeats its message, allowing me to detect a slight atypical pronunciation of the gutteral "R" in the voice-over artist's delivery. The thin snow lighting on the other side of the glass silhouettes someone waiting at the front counter
With difficulty, they cough up a wet pocket of phlegm. Part of a cigarette lets wisps of smoke up through the dusting and an age'd woman scavanges it, taking what life remains. Bass lines return, the big wheel of the six-load Speed Queen is engaged to a spin cycle, wringing the damp from my drawers
Ol' Leather-Mitts has stooped to heft his MEGAjug of detergent, ultra-concentrated, boasting upwards of 256 loads contained within. He fumbles, however, setting the MEGAjug dangerously over the edge of the top of his chosen six-load Speed Queen automatic washing machine
Euripides is said to have said in the Greek, "There is in the worst fortune, the best of chances for a happy change." But when, less some five or six of the fabled 256 input loads, did quite cartoonishly that MEGAjug fall from the toppest part of the washing machine
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