loading words...

Jul 10, 2019 16:40:58

A Summer near Westcity -- 5

by @abrahamKim | 700 words | 15🔥 | 296💌

Sir Abe

Current day streak: 15🔥
Total posts: 296💌
Total words: 108200 (432 pages 📄)

The annual art fair happening outside my apartment building makes the weekend even more tiring. All these people with their sunglass-smiles and kids licking ice cream. It makes me sick. Isn't there more to life then children, families, and pretending to have a good time?

When I walk outside, I walk through the bonanza as quick as I can to signal that I am not a part of this circus. I'm not one of these meandering mid-westerners pretending for a single weekend to care about art.

I would just stay in my apartment the whole weekend if it wasn't for the piling laundry and other chores I need to tend to before the week begins. Not sure why, but I prefer running errands -- the meaningless but necessary chores -- on weekends as opposed to the work week even though I don't have a job. 

So I head to the bank to get quarters. I get two ten dollar rolls, enough to run 8 cycles of washer/dryer. On my way home, i stop into the liquor store to buy some bananas and peanut butter. I also pick up a six pack of craft beer. Back at home I get a load of much needed underwear and socks started in the communal washer, and then I head back outside to walk around the block smoking cigarettes waiting for the load to finish. 

After about 30 minutes, I head to the washer room and I transfer the underwear and socks into the dryer. And then I put my bedding into the washer. Now I'm running two machines. Upstairs back in my apartment I take out the canister vacuum that my mom gifted me out of the closet. After opening up the windows, I release as much of the vacuum cord as possible and plug it into the wall. After vacuuming I decide I should also do the dishes. But I'm out of detergent. So I head back to that liquor store and get some. When I return I go straight downstairs to see who my laundry's doing. I notice that someone's put their basket there, which means that they are calling dibs on the next round. I guess my shirts and pants will have to wait for another day. I go upstairs and wash my dishes with a sponge. First the largest ones like pots and pans, and then large plates and bowls. And finally, the silverware. 

After I empty the sink and load up the drying rack with the clean dishes, I crack open one of those craft beers and take two refreshing sips before I go back downstairs to take out my underwear and socks from the dryer and then transfer the bedding into the dryer. I slip four quarters into the metal mouth and push it in. Then I press the button and the machine begins to growl. I turn around and there's a guy holding a laundry hamper. He looks down at the laundry basket that's on the floor.

-- Someone left that there.

-- You think they'll be mad if I take their spot?

-- Probably 

I laugh to let him know that I don't mind if he cuts in line.

Back upstairs i try to enjoy my beer while watching Youtube on my phone. I open up another beer and finish that before it's time to go check on my bedding in the dryer. The old hamper that someone had left earlier before the guy cut in line is still there. I wonder if that person came in and threw up their hands in a fit of rage. I take my bedding and go upstairs. I don't run into anyone on the way.

I dump all my clean laundry on top of my bed. And then I open up another beer and try to continue watching Youtube, but can't get into it. I feel anxious now that I'm not waiting on anything. And the sounds of the art fair still pours in through the open windows. 

I check my phone to see if there's anything waiting for me.

From Sir Abe's collection:

contact: email - twitter / Terms / Privacy