Two weeks of dirty clothes were piled high in a hamper located in the corner of my bedroom. Alongside of it was another hamper filled with dirty linens that had been in storage close to eleven months. I’d gotten home around 7:30 and figured the laundromat would be open late. I figured wrong since the owner, an old Greek lady, closes shop at nine. Nine?! WTF!
She informed me that the laundromat on Ditmars was open till eleven and if I hurried I could make it. As you can guess I hauled ass and washed all my clothes. Now, I don’t really mind the act of washing clothes. To be honest it’s really easy: sort, wash and dry. The catch is the folding and boy do I hate folding.
If and when I go to hell I know what’s waiting for me, a pile of unfolded clothes. I’m not sure why I hate it so much, I just do.
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