A Crank at the Laundromat

We had more blowy, rainy weather yesterday morning, apparently involving Storm Herminia. Looking out at the street I would never have known it was a named storm  -- it didn't seem particularly intense, at least not in my part of the world -- but apparently it has caused some damage and flooding elsewhere in England and Wales.

I took the photo above in the pre-dawn darkness while walking Olga. This morning, she got me up at 4:45 a.m., her tail thumping the mattress, ready to go! As Dave so often says, that dog is insane.

Last night I picked up our sheets and towels from the laundry and the clerk there annoyed me by asking again that I pay in cash. I said I didn't have cash. "Could you go to a cash machine?" she asked. I said no, I could not, that I was prepared to pay by card and that I never use cash. This is the second time in a row that they've done this to me, the last time in early December. I asked her if they intended to stop taking cards altogether. She said they were having problems with their card system, but I pointed out they've had this issue for weeks without getting it fixed.

I think they're simply trying to do business off the books to either avoid taxes or transaction fees on card purchases. I told her I was going to find another cleaner if they couldn't take a card, and darned if she didn't whip a perfectly functional card terminal out from under the counter. "For you, I'll use this from now on," she said, like she was doing me a special favor.

I hate to be such a crank, but come on. It's 2025! People pay for cups of coffee using a card. Businesses just have to be able to allow customers to pay that way.

Speaking of cranks, did you hear about Caroline Kennedy's letter skewering Robert F. Kennedy Jr. ahead of his confirmation hearing? (To be clear, I'm saying he's the crank -- not her.) I was amazed at her candor. Good for her.

Oh, and I forgot to mention that I watched a second David Lynch film the other day, as part of my sporadic personal David Lynch Memorial Film Festival. The film was "Inland Empire," which I'd seen once before back when Netflix mailed DVDs. (Remember those days?) I didn't recall the plot, and now, having watched it again, I understand why -- it has only the loosest of linear plots. It's more a three-hour collection of disjointed surreal scenes that fold back upon each other, and like "Mulholland Drive" they involve Hollywood and moviemaking and questions of identity -- "Mulholland Drive" on mushrooms, you might say. Apparently the movie was made without a complete script and Lynch filmed it all himself digitally and edited the footage. Even the stars -- Laura Dern and Justin Theroux -- have said they don't understand it. Despite moments of brilliance I did not love it overall. It was too Lynchian for me.