VII.

 

 

I wonder if the hummidity in the Coin-Op has anything to do with the tanning rooms.

Past the dryers are two doors, seperated by a long 'folding table'. On the right, Women get the 'Bahama Room' while on the left, the  'Acapulco Room' is reserved for the men.

 

I can resist anything except the temptation to go to Acapulco.

 

Seven quarters buys me 32 minutes of drying time. This doesn't bug me. The dryers have stainless-steel faces, embedded in a light-blue wall. On this wall, white poofs are sponged haphazardly.

 

(Clouds, maybe.

 

Soap suds, more logically.

 

Either one works.

They both soothe me.)

 

I secretly enjoy watching my clothes spin through the glass. The pinging sound of my zippers hitting the dryer wall.

 

Getting bored and finding bravery, I wonder over to the door on the left.

 

I attempt to get into Acapulco.  But...Acapulco is locked. This feels like a low-brow Mexican joke. Or a newspaper headline I had once mis-interpreted:

 

"Interracial Hemorrhaging".

 

I laugh out loud and immediately regret it.

 

        (29 minutes left to dry)

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[jenniewren (J.W. Bouwma..]

haha this is incredible. i DID laugh aloud at the headline and having Acapulco be off limits was too delish. a couple of very minor grammar thingums, but still.

i hate laundry days.. tho i like the folding part.

[Leap]

Ahh dear, this is so beautifully candid. A truly intimate human moment of thought written down.