Though I had grand adventures when I spent time at East Coast laundromats (see my archived post about homeless people - type "pockets" into the blog search an you'll find it), I don't miss the crappy television, funny wet smell, or the humming of the neon OPEN sign.
Lucky me, two of my clients work at a laundromat and I have the pleasure of reliving the past. Unlike Baltimore, company is scarce here besides the animated banter of the laundry carts.
I love laundry carts.
Seriously though, with most of my time here only dedicated to visual monitoring, I find myself wanting for someone to come in and bug me sometimes. Is that strange or what?
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