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January 24, 2006
Yeah, we really are all the same. Deal with it,
Laundromats are typically not my favorite places to be.Tonight, however, M— was working. It seems I've never actually been to a laundromat that has an attendant. This particular laundromat is open 24 hours, and is staffed 'round the clock.
M— and I got talking, and in the hour and a half I was there, broke only a few times -- for me to move my laundry from a washer to a dryer, for him to have a cigarette with one of the employees from the restaurant next door, and for him to do a couple of runs collecting lint and wiping down machines.
M— works the 3-11 p.m. shift daily, except Thursdays and Sundays. He walks 20 minutes to work, and since he doesn't have a car, only having one day off at a time has kept him from seeing his mother in Rochester -- an hour and a half away by car, closer to 3 by bus -- for three years. He regrets dropping out of school, messing up when he was kid.
But it's a long haul, eight hours on the job, watching the clock. We're all working for pay, trying to earn our rent, keep the utility happy, keep food in our bellies. We go home tired, we eat, we sleep, we don't bother anybody and try not to let anybody bother us. We watch TV, we read, we follow baseball, take in the occasional hockey game. We're both scared to death of those huge Texas mosquito.
His right eye is a bit squinty -- he got hit with a baseball as a kid. He won't ever play again. Slow nights -- Mondays and Tuesdays in particular -- he'll sit with some word searches, wait for someone to talk to. Busy nights, he'll run around crazy, making sure everything's working, making sure that when someone's done with a dryer, the clothes get emptied so someone else can use it.
That's what he does -- not much different from me. Slow days, I'll linger over the editorials, maybe start a crossword. Busy days, I'll run around crazy.
Either way, M— and I both go home tired, eat, sleep, get up and do it again. Sure, I have the privilege of my race, the benefit of my education. But you don't even have to cut deep to see how similar we are. Now isn't that what living's about?
Posted by josh at January 24, 2006 08:37 PM
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