Ah, laundry, one of my least favorite things to do on the planet. It's not so much the actual process, its the folding and the waiting. I am not privileged enough to have an adequate facility in my building, so I have to make the half-mile trek down the street to wash my underbritches and such. While there, I found several things that bugged me.
The first thing is the damn people that work there. The place is of decent size, yet no matter where I walk, boom, there's some motherfucker in my face. I go to take my clothes out of the washer, and who's there to greet me? The dump bitch is standing behind me mopping. Is it really necessary to mop the same spot every 5 minutes? I'm almost positive she was doing it just to fuck with me.
Outside of the Laundromat is fairly disguisting, since its next to a Mexican restaurant, and they have their horrid smelling grease-trap outside of the building. You walk out of your car, and boom, the smell hits you in the face like a left hook from Mike Tyson. Even when you are inside the building, the smell finds a way to grab you by the nuts when you're comfortably inside. Grease has to be one of the worst smelling things on the planet.
These factors are just more motivation to keep trying to better my life. It would be nice to wash my underwear and shirts, while i sit on the couch naked, eating a hot pocket, and watching yet another episode of Maury. You are not the Father!