Sixfoot6.com - Putting Stuff Away.

Joshua and I drove several blocks to the Laundromat at the corner of Magnolia and Oxnard, for to wash a giant red comforter. The woman at the dry cleaners next-door refused to break my twenty, so we bought mexican juice at the convenience store. The stubborn change machine eventually coughed up twenty quarters.

They had a Ms. Pac Man video game in there, and Bust-A-Move, too. I remember playing Bust-A-Move all the time back in college, in the student union basement. That seems like a long time ago.

Each of the television sets built into the walls spouted and flickered info-operas and soapshows and talkmercials into the rumbling room from behind protective plastic. I put way too much detergent into the industrial-stainless built washing machine, apparently, because after a bit of sloshing soap suds came pouring out of the vent on top of the road basin. We couldn't figure out if the button labeled OVERSUDDING should be pressed in case of too many suds, or in case of a lack of suds. People who are used to using laundromats don't need help figuring out this stuff, apparently.

The two half-Mexican women waiting for their loads to finish... how do they know each other, anyway? Aunt and neice? Drinking buddies? Workmates? After a confused, inarticulate yelling match, the fat one finally decided on Hawaiian Punch, and the little one in the hat pumped quarters into the vending machine. Maybe everyone seems less intelligent inside an air-conditioned laundromat. Just to be safe, we played chess outside on a nearby patch of grass, waiting for the comforter to dry.