That Rolls-Royce bit got me in a luxury frame of mind. Where else can you go to wash a comforter that your dog puked on at 2:00 AM AND get to browse showroom quality luxury living catalogs? Laundromats are usually this country’s last bastion of wtfness, but the one I ended up at in the “good” part of town—they run a credit check before you they allow you to pass—was a little too nice from the ones I remember. Apparently, 203 lets you in on all the things that you can’t afford in Martha Stewart country—when you don’t live in Martha Stewart country. Flipping through the golden tanned, overly Botoxed spreads, it’s clear that The Real Housewives of Connecticut can’t be too far behind. Conveniently, it’s located next to a liquor store that carries the Il Messia, perfect for roasted meats. If, you know, the liquor store was also 24-hour.
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