The laundry is 24 hours. On the way back from open mike, after spitting a new poem to an audience that wouldn't understand the subject, I was a half-block from home when I realized I was three blocks over from where I'd intended. But it was before 12 a.m., and as such allowed my liquid courage to further brave the cold as I retraced those three side streets. I waited through an argument (one is inevitably occuring at the laundromat late-night), and the lady recognized me, just as easily as she failed to with my bag, silver cylinder that's amazingly simple to spot. Paying with exact change thanks to the dime I'd smartly stored in my pocket pre-Penny's, I adorned my gloves and slung the bag over my shoulder, trudging three blocks back toward my apartment's entrance and marveling at how awesome this actually was.
New York is my favorite. For things like that.
PS
I finished Harry Potter, and I think Running with Scissors is up next. Because that's how I roll.
... down stairs, alone or in pairs, and over your neighbor's dog.
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Arthur Verocai - Na Boca do Sol
5 hours ago
3 saw something, said something:
It's logloglog?
LOG!
TLS, TMR - Yes, x2.
... ha.
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