Daily Blague

For years, the washers and driers in the laundry room on each floor of our building took quarters - more and more of them as time went by. That was a nuisance, but in the end I'd rather go back than use the cash cards now required. The cash cards can be loaded only via machines that ingest $20 bills. They are very picky about the bills.

Instead of taking my wallet downstairs when I went to collect the mail, I slipped a twenty into my pocket. The elevator ride was long, with so many stops that I had to close my book to make room. The part of the lobby where the money machine is located was a nest of yakking moms and querulous kids.

The money machine wouldn't take my twenty. I kept trying. Then the bill fluttered to the floor - followed quickly by the (empty) cash card. I was so overtaken by disgust with my housing situation  (I am SO TIRED of strollers, their occupants, and their operators) that I slammed the book onto the floor, making quite a pop. The lobby went completely silent. I scurried away intemperately.

The Vitamin B-12 injections have been working wonders, but I see that there are limits.