Fairy laundry

So our washer is on the fritz. Again. I know, we should probably just give up and get a new one, but at the moment we can't afford it; instead I gathered MILLIONS of magical quarters and spent most of the afternoon chillin' and sudsin' at the Seelie Court Laundromat. (Hey, I take my fairy duties seriously.)

As always, there was a bean-sídhe getting her laundry done (an industrial washer load... not a good sign). There was also a house-elf folding up someone else's shirts, a whole family of duendes doing their linens, some werewolves trying to get the hair off their jeans, and a punk tomte spinning himself in one of the tumble dryers and yelling "WHEEEE!" (kids, don't try this at home). The proprietor, an irritable day-shift vampire with a toothy frown and a pair of very dark glasses, watched the whole scene passively, giving off an aura of intense boredom; his only contribution was to grimace at the noise any time someone used the change machine.

Dontcha just hate it when you spill a whole pocketful of quarters?

Now I'm home again, nibbling on a little late-night snack and staring down a whole lotta laundry to fold. Hmm. Maybe I should've stolen that house-elf while I was at it.