2003-01-23

Well, it�s not quite as cold out today, but I�m still not looking forward to lugging my huge pile of overdue laundry to the laundromat tonight. My laundromat is extra-special, too. It�s a run-down pile of crap. The coin slots on the dryers don�t quite work, so sometimes when you put in a quarter it�ll just sit there inside the slot instead of dropping into the machine, and you have to bash the slot with the heel of your hand until the coin finally drops. Really, if an evening�s activities are going to land me with bruises, I'd prefer they come from slightly less laundry-related activities.

At least I�ll get a chance to finish my book. I�m reading Ann Radcliffe�s Romance of the Forest, which is like a proto-Gothic novel and pretty unintentionally hilarious. It�s big with the �dark, tempestuous night� and �palpitations of terror� and �phrenzy of despair� action, and the catch-all reaction of every female character to a shocking turn of events is to faint. I�ve counted at least a dozen swoons so far, and I�m not even halfway through the book. I think these chicks should haul their heaving bosoms off to the doctor and have their blood sugar checked.