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Laundry dilemma

Johnny believes I have been 86ed from every laundromat in Manhattan & must be doing my laundry in Brooklyn. It's not quite true. There's a few I haven't been to yet.

The one on 1st Ave & 2nd St is disgustingly dirty & the ladies there are crabby, plus they never open on time. The only good thing there was years ago when I used to run into this cute young guy. One day he said he thought I was hot. "You're leaning on the dryer," I said.

Then I started going to the one across the street from my office. They were so nice, took my packages, I used to hang around & talk to the lady about her life in China, I brought them little presents, flowers when the owner's mother died. Then one day, without warning, the wife yelled at me, so much she made me cry. I took a long break & as soon as I went back, she yelled at me some more. She's done the same thing to almost everyone I know who has gone there.

So I moved on to a place on 4th St, but twice they moved my clothes to a different dryer when I'd stepped out, & they didn't pony up as many quarters as I'd put in.

Today I went to a place on Second Avenue & 5th, only a little farther than the one across the street, very clean. Even ran into someone from karate—who pointed out that the place is closing: tomorrow.

So I am on the hunt again. Hello, Brooklyn!
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