Sep.10.01

I've been terribly productive this evening! Did laundry, made a big stir-fry dinner, and brought home the bacon, as it were. That's right, I rock.

I did both C.'s and my laundry when I got home. Normally I refuse to do his stuff, but today I was feeling charitable. I had three sets of sheets to do, plus C.'s and my stuff. A LOT of laundry. I loaded it all into the car and took it to the laundromat down the street. Man, I hate that place. If it wasn't so close I'd go somewhere else. The guy who runs that laundromat is wayyy too interested in what everyone else is doing. He is always coming up to me (and others--I've seen him interfering with many) while I'm loading my clothes into the machines and insists that I use a double- or triple-load machine because he thinks I am putting too much stuff into his single-load machines. Of course, the doubles and triples cost more, and he's really interested in my extra quarters. And I guess he's probably pretty bored.

But y'know, all I want when I go to the laundromat is to be left completely alone. And this guy is just always there! Watching! Hovering! "Don't open that machine yet! You're putting the quarters in wrong! That's 'too much clothes' for that machine! Don't forget to put the soap in!" On and on and on!

I just want to scream, Look, I know perfectly well how much clothing can go into a normal washing machine, I'm not an idiot. I'm 27 years old and I've been doing my own laundry since I was ten! That's 17 effin' years! Sure, I've made my mistakes, but come on. I'm not going to break your machine. I've never done it before and I'm not about to do it now. Just lay off, okay?? Sheesh!

And tomorrow? Off to the suburbs. Again.

square - hip