Thursday, October 24, 2002

she folds the clothes in the laundromat. She sometimes wishes that she had a washer and dryer, but not today. The smoke covered window looks out onto a busy street, she watches the cars pass without paying much attention to them. She wonders why the dryer scent on her clothes smells so good, but is so synthetic. Her mother is to meet her tonight at her house for dinner. Domesticity was not something she was akin to and because of this dinner tonight was going to be pancakes. She was not one of those people who make strange faces when people eat typical breakfast foods at other times in the day. Her mother wouldn't mind either. Maple syrup is so good, but she really like the real kind in the gray jug, but usually buys the synthetic type becuase it is cheaper. She places her laundry into the trunk of her hatchback and proceeds home. She checks the answering machine but there are no messages. No news is good news, she says aloud, liking the static nature of her life.

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