Laundr-O-Mat

Everyone has been to one. You know what it’s like. It’s like waiting in waiting in line at Wal-Mart. No one dares to make eye contact, you just mind your own business. Or better yet, it’s like waiting outside of the principals’ office, because when you’re at the Laundromat you feel like you are not nearly as good as the world you came from. You don’t even have your own washer and dryer. Hell, you don’t even have a friend with a washer and dryer. So, instead, you drive somewhere and pay a big, silver machine to hold your hand, or make fun of you; of whatever it is you happen to be feeling on laundry day. The few hours you spend there, staring at the wood-paneled walls, obliquely connects with your mind so that you can remember being to the Laundromat, but you can’t remember a thing about it. It’s like trying to remember something distinguishing about Grand Forks, ND, or Winnipeg. You remember being there, but if someone asked you what it was like, you’d just shrug your shoulders and say I guess it was like a regular town….