(I wrote this ironically while at the laundromat)
Not that I know what an ode really is, but it felt like the right title. I'll be very excited when I re-enter the world of people who have their very own, non-coin operated washer and dryer. I've used laundromats before, but only in Provo and only where the use of said machines was restricted to use by the tenants of the various BYU abodes that I once called my apartment. While providing some great culture shock and exposure to the four seasons, Georgia has also given me the great opportunity to visit my very first "public" laundromat, where anyone can come in and use the machines as long as they are willing and able to fork over $2.00 in quarters per wash load and $.25 for every 5 minutes of dry time. Normally I plan to be at the laundromat when there really is no one else there. I have found Thursday after work to be such a time. On occasion and usually due to circumstances beyond my control I have to go on Fridays. I avoid Fridays at the laundromat like I avoid canned corn (I hate the stuff). I mean who knew that the laundromat is the place to be early Friday evening. I would write you a long laundry list (pun intended) of the reasons why I avoid the laundromat on Friday, but I feel the following conversation should suffice, if not I guess I'll write the list. Here is a "typical" Friday night conversation at the laundromat with some random member of the male species who of all the women in the laundromat (or after all ready striking out with every other female within a ten mile radius) has decided I am the one he will grace with his presence.