My beautiful laundrette

I never thought that I would enjoy going to the laundrette...and most of the time when I leave the appartment at 9pm, with my luggage full of wet cloathing like I am going on a trip, I am grouchy and tired I wish I had place for a dryer but nevertheless while I walk down the boulevard, I breath and look around and try to find some motivation. But it's only when I open the door that I realize that I have, finally, some time on my own. The laundrette's light has an opaque, veiled brightness and I look strangely pale and other people's faces look also different, more greenish! While I charge the machine I hear a lot of lunguages and I love when I can hear some conversations indisturbed. When I go late there is a couple with a little child who is in charge to clean up the place. She feeds the baby and he cleans the washing machines :they are so sweet and I feel a moment of tenderness for them. I sit on the cold chair and I read my latest book or write in my little notebook the list of "what I have to do", I check, sometimes, with the corner of eye, the cloathing turning in the dryer, after 2 cycle of 6 minutes each, I put a hand in the machine to feel if everything is dry and the heat warms up the place. I fold then Meggie's little shirts, get the socks paired, pile up all underware and I am off to the apartment, again. It's my little bohiemien moment, my little " Moulin Rouge" à moi!