文档介绍：自助洗衣店里的禅道
I can hear the spinning wheels of the cart chatter as they move across the unevenly tiled floor. The cart’s pilot is a well-dressed woman in her 40s, loudly talking into her mobile phone while she tries to 1)manoeuvre the cart with one hand.
It’s overflowing with white fabric, decorated with 2)crumbs and lipstick―a clue that her cart is full of soiled restaurant-quality tablecloths and napkins. Her conversation with the attendants is loud enough for all to hear, and it’s clear she’s at first glance 3)agitated, rushed and 4)frantic. This is not a place she’s familiar with, nor is it the place she wants to be.
I’m in my local laundromat, and this display has ripped my attention from my morning newspaper. The space is well-lit, clean and mostly quiet, save for the rows of rumbling washers and the rhythmic sounds of clothes flopping around in the glass-fronted dryers. Fellow launderers sit reading magazines or books; some work on laptops. Every time the door opens, the notices on the nearby 5)bulletin board briefly rustle in the breeze.
I’m tempted to feel superior here because I’fortable and familiar in this place, while the loud woman is obviously not. I’m tempted to smirk at her questions about the machines
’ settings, since I can roll my cart to any machine and operate it with ease, like my mom works her knitting needles.
Because I’m still tempted, it’s