Last Thursday, on my day to meet the Pioneer Woman, my dryer up and died on me. Well, not literally on me, but still. It quit heating up inside, therefore not drying my clothes and towels in a timely manner.
I did what any one of you would do: I cursed a little and shoved all the wet stuff into the car and drove to the laundromat. It has been a long time since I've seen the inside of a laundromat. My dryer is seventeen years old, so it's been at least seventeen years since I've Fluffed N' Folded.
At first, I was impressed. It only cost seventy-five cents to wash a load of clothes! I don't know why, but this seemed like a good price to me. Then I discovered that it cost a jaw-dropping two-fifty to dry the clothes. For thirty minutes. Any longer than that and you had to cough up another two-fifty.
I did what any one of you would do: I cursed a little and shoved both loads of wet clothing into one dryer, dropped in ten quarters, and hoped they'd be dry-ish in thirty minutes because I refused to run next door to the ATM to withdrawal more cash to feed the dryer.
Once the laundry was happily tumbling around in hot air, I noticed that I, ahem, didn't exactly blend into my surroundings at the laundromat.
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