Ah paradise, you are my Shangri La, the place where there are no worries, food is plentiful, play no work, and I will never get old.
Who am I kidding? Not you I hope.
The food is not free. The housing isn’t either. And there are chores to do.
Thanks to my neighbor monopolizing the washer/dryer – I get to experience Laundromat in Paradise.
The only difference to the laundromats of my past is – it is an open air laundromat. The temperature inside is the same as outside, unless you are standing next to the dryers.
The machines are the same as when I lived in Rogers Park and went every weekend with my mother to the laundromat on Howard east of Western Ave.
Today I am reminded of that time. When the dryers take all your quarters.
Today I am reminded that life happens wherever you live. The ups, the downs, the beauty, the ugly.
Unless you modify your definition of paradise – you will never find it. It will always be a fantasy because there is always dirty laundry to wash.