Although the day is dry, it’s chilly and people seem to congregate in the hot dampness in here. Clicks and whirrs punctuate a low level burring while the low warmed hum that vibrates against my back is comforting rather than irritating. All of a sudden the burr picks up and turns into a frantic whizz of activity there in front of my eyes.
A lady greets everyone with a smile and often a name too. Folk pop in and out – one, Barry, nearly leaves with the wrong bag but Nance points out his error before it’s too late – and he’s “left with only women’s clothes for the week!”
There are a few stragglers who sit and wait looking bored… or defeated. Not to be the same, on my return I read the paper and think of words that I’d like to put down. So I do. I try to be mindful. My lack of washing machine is temporary until the holiday weekend is over and the plumber returns from his jaunt. Others are not so fortunate.
