It was one of those days when you wake up and the outside world calls your name. Not as muggy as the last couple but enough to make you sweat if you weren’t in the shade. I dropped some laundry off at the laundromat, which is a sort of godsend well worth the extra six dollars. They take the laundry off your hands, supply the soap and dryer sheets, and wash your clothes. You come back later and pick up your neatly folded clothes after enjoying an afternoon downtown kicking around stores and parks. Beyond the bag of folded laundry, the only other tangible thing was a few abulms I picked up on vinyl from the bargin bin: Simon and Garfunkel’s Greatest Hits, Supertramp’s Crime of The Century and The Who’s Tommy.