A Love Letter

To my dear dear friends who run the laundromat across the street:

I just wanted to take this moment to say thank you. Thank you for your sweaty laundromat that could double as a community steam room for all of us on V-bilt Avenue.

Thank you for having piece of crap dryers that don't work by, for example, not getting hot, but just tossing your clothes around and around so when you open the dryer door, you are met with wet cold clothes. And thanks for not putting up signs to say that the machine doesn't work. Then, when you chatter at me in a language I don't understand, expecting me to, you somehow make me feel like it's MY fault that I wasn't clairvoyant to know that the machine didn't work, and then make me appreciative and overly gracious when you tell me the next round of quarters for a working dryer is on you.

Thank you for taking out my clothes when they weren't fully dry, so you could use the dryer. I know the machine hadn't stopped yet because the next one to it (my clothes) was still going, and i had put LESS quarters in that one. However, I do appreciate how you lay out my towel to cover up my heap of damp clothes you prematurely take out of my dryer.

Thanks for that extra special bit of bleach that somehow gets on my clothes. (I don't use bleach)

Thank you, thank you. Thanks again.

Forever yours,

Jen