Laundry and 14th-century Persian poetry

Laundry is a thorn in my side. First, because I never learned to do it well. Second, because I suffer from low-grade agoraphobia. I dislike the smell, lighting and general feel of the laundr-o-mat. But I had run out of clean clothes, so on Wednesday night, I gathered my laundry, bundled up, donned my big boots, and grabbed my purse.

*This on the recommendation of From the Faraway, Nearby, a fellow admirer of Iranian culture. He recently asked me to consider the merits of Hafiz (or Hafez) over Rumi. I was looking forward to an hour of discovering this 14th-century Persian poet while my laundry ran its cycle. But when I got all the way out there, the place was closed for holiday break! to be continued