I take my
laundry up to the top of the hill, one of a number of places called Bubbles,
which I always thought of as funny.
It’s nice
to get back to routine, to think only of how everything will come out in the
wash, whether the ink stain on the back pocket of my pants will fade, letting
me wear them without shame.
The heat
gets to me so I stay in the car, sipping water, and foolishly coffee, to wait
out the cycles of the machines – trying not to think too much about the cycles
of life, or anything too serious.
Sometimes
the only thing I want to think about is the thing that matters least, having
the least impact, not global warming or nuclear extinction, or any other brand
of extinction I might create for myself.
I just want the car air conditioner to work, and the coffee to taste like coffee, a dryer to be ready when the wash cycle is done so I don’t have to wait in the heat for the next stage.
I just want the car air conditioner to work, and the coffee to taste like coffee, a dryer to be ready when the wash cycle is done so I don’t have to wait in the heat for the next stage.
All changes
in life are accompanied with pain, even the small ones, and sometimes it’s
better not to think too much about them, to let them just happen, to hope that
everything you need falls into place so that you don’t have to wait in heat.
Sometimes,
all you really want or need is the routine – never having to think too much
about any thing except whether you have the right change for the dryer or
enough gas in the car to keep the air conditioning running until this cycle
ends and you can get onto the next one unscathed.
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