I think I love you, new laundromat. Indeed, I would like to thank you for making me realize that my previous laundromat was pampering me and making me soft. Not only was it closer to my apartment, but the staff there spoke fluent English, pressed my shirts and pants, and didn’t bother making me purchase a refillable laundry card for $1 that seems to have no actual use. They didn’t even know that you could fold boxer shorts by stuffing the cuffs into the waist, thereby creating a handy ball of underwear. What assholes!
Today, as I iron my shirts that used to come back to me ready-to-wear, I pause to reflect on your majesty. Sure, the old place offered free coffee and cookies and sold hot dogs and fresh fruit juices. But you’ve got vending machines! I can’t wait for winter to come so that I may enjoy a soggy stroll through a snowy wonderland as I trudge the extra brisk block to your door (that only sometimes opens automatically).
Love you!
Sincerely,
Phil
