This AIM User Does The Laundromat � � � Tuesday, Mar. 11, 2003 * 00:51

Ahh, what a nice weekend it was. It's too bad I slept through the entire day to-day as a result of watching The Client long into the wee hours of the morning. I was late to work. But you know, I don't regret it. I'll never again be as happy as I was 4:00 this morning watching The Client, smoking cigarettes, getting a pounding headache, and crying my eyes out when my roommate went to bed. Yes, those are the kind of moments you never get back.

Now, Sunday evening I could have lived without. It's not exactly my idea of a good time to go to the laundromat and do four loads of clothes. I fucking HATE doing laundry. But now I can look back with relief and pride and say, "Wow. It's All Done, and I Don't Have To Worry About-It Any-More" in a sing-song voice. Right? NO! I will never get those four and a half hours back. I will always remember the back pain, the sweating, the uncomfortable waiting, the total and complete weirdness of The Laundromat. It is bizarre there. Whereas I never see pregnant women, maybe once a year, I saw FIVE at The Laundromat Of Doom. It's beginning to take on more and more of a sinister afterlight in my mind. There was the man in the cheap twill suit who winked at me, the woman in the blue jumpsuit who stared at me endlessly as if to burn the visage of my face into her eyes forevermore, the attendant who touched my arm. The sign on the washer that said "DO NOT Put Any Person In This Washer," which compelled me strangely to climb in and spin myself into a sud-soaked oblivion, into the great unknown, into the rinse cycle to wash my cares away. When I broke my gaze, I was hopelessly close to the machine, touching it lasciviously, eliciting wanton looks from the mexican painters washing their paint-stained work clothes.

I'm giving myself the heebie-jeebies. Maybe I should do the wash in my sink from now on.