i do my laundry every other saturday in the same laundromat (and before i get e-mails, i have sixteen pairs of underwear). whenever i go in, there's usually a homeless guy there with a long red beard and a freaky black trenchcoat who's just hanging out. he's harmless, i reckon, but he's there. he's not always there, but he's there enough.
and, for some reason, i kinda feel good that he's there with my clothes while i'm out on a run while my washer is going. because he's always there, he seems like an employee. and yes, it sounds as stupid as it reads.
aaaaaanyways, while walking out of walgreens today, i noticed him hanging out. i've never seen him outside the laundromat. so my eyes locked onto him, and his onto mine. and that's when i accidentally kicked over his change chalace.
it scampered all the way down the block. of course, i didn't see it and of course, i went to get it and put the thirty five cents that were in it. and of course, i gave it back to him. no harm, no foul.
that is, until i take my clothes out of the dryer next weekend.