A Sunday Morning at the Laundry Mat

I spent most of yesterday morning at the laundry mat. When I first got there I was kind of like "Damn". I've worked consistently for the past 13 years (never out of work longer than 3 months) and I still don't live in a place with a washer and dryer. What is up with that?

I felt less beligerent after I got my clothes into the washer and sat down with a machiatto and a bagel. A lot of caffine and some carbs always settle my mood. The irony was that as I was in the patio just outside "my" laundry mat reading my trashy grocery store magazine and listening to Nelly Furtado play on my old-school Sony portable cd player, I got off my yuppie high horse and recognized the pleasure of not having a laundry machine at my apartment.

With or without that damn machine of convenience I freakin' LOVE my apartment, so really there is not that much love loss. I realized if I didn't have to leave my apartment to wash my clothes I would have locked myself into the place for the entire morning. I wouldn't have enjoyed the sun, the fresh (well, sort of fresh - a lot of cars go by) air, and the interesting characters that passed through.

At least I don't have to go to the river to bash my lycra against the rocks to get it clean...