The washing machine is still broke and none of my friends had an available washer so I ventured to The Laundromat. My local one is largely frequented by single middle-aged men. I at least assume they were single but based on some educated guesswork I’m confident.
All in all it was a heartening experience. The way the Sicilian man lovingly folded his track suits and chose perm press instead of colors for anything made from crushed velvet or how the two elder black men alternated discussing blues and barbeque let me know that my children or at least my brother’s children will live in a world of reassuring stereotypes.
I was also encouraged that everyone folded their laundry. I wonder if this is an observer effect likenhow everyone washed their hands in public bathrooms if anyone else is there.