So. Last night I went to the laundromat. But don’t let that fool you, because this is not a post about my Laundry. Or the fact that movies and TV shows have a lot to answer for when it comes to laundromats, because I’ve been labouring under the false impression that laundromats are fun magical romantic places full of interesting people.
So this is not a post about laundry, except to say that I did about three months worth of towels and nearly bankrupted myself in $2 coins. Never again shall I allow my towels to pile up. Mostly because I was there for HOURS washing and drying, and drying, and drying some more, because the driers only run for 20 minutes and when you’ve crammed them full of damp towels, 20 minutes isn’t going to do it.
Also: When I thought the laundromat was a magical place? I definitely was wrong about the people, because I’ve been going to a 24 hour laundromat for the past few months, and I haven’t met a single ridiculously hot Italian man. I did meet a cat lady, but she didn’t want to talk to me because she was busy folding her cabbage coloured dresses and underwear.
So Definitely not a story about the laundromat. Because when I got home from the laundromat, all tired and looking forward to jumping into sheets still warm from the drier, I was faced with a lounge covered in a soft layer of downy feathers. Which I had to pick up by hand because I haven’t gotten round to buying a vacuum cleaner yet.
Also? The cat didn’t bother with eating the bird, he just left it sitting in the lounge. I’m thinking about locking him outside during the day.