I Hate Sundays

It's true, I really hate Sundays.

Nothing to do but clean, do laundry, and catch up on correspondence. Ugh. Plus, the lamest DJs are always on the radio on Sundays. Why is that? (Of course, I type that just as Elliot Smith starts playing. But I'm sure the next song will completely suck and cancel that one out...

... Iron & Wine. I was right.)

Barely sixty degrees outside and I'm still line-drying my clothes. I have to fix this dryer situation. See, I have a refurbished laundromat dryer here in the basement. When I moved in, I didn't have to put quarters in to use it because my landlord had taken the quarter box off. However, at the start of summer, she decided to put the box back on, claiming that it was for "wear and tear" of the dryer.

I'd, of course, have no problem with this if it wasn't for the fact that I PAY THE UTILITIES.

So, because she's being cheap (and a little nefarious, no?), I have to pay double my laundry utility bills for the convenience of being able to do it at home. Lame.

I should probably just call Steve and have him rig something up for me. I'm sure he already has a stolen landromat key lying around his apartment somewhere. Not to mention the fact that he owes me a favor or two.