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Every time I wash my clothes in this one laundromat I go to, I always hear “Un-Break My Heart” by Toni Braxton. In fact, it’s more accurate to say that in this one laundromat I go to, they refuse to not play “Un-Break My Heart.” As if the owners of the laundromat and whichever radio station responsible were in cahoots. If I wanted to actually un-break my heart, a laundromat would be the last place I’d go. My heart wasn’t even broken when I went in there. In fact, the only thing breaking my heart is having to listen to “Un-Break My Heart” in a laundromat! It’s un-un breaking my heart. Drying my clothes to that song doesn’t remind me of something sad. It reminds me that I don’t really have anything to be sad about. Not really. Nothing as sad as whatever she’s so sad about in that very laundromat-inappropriate song. Every time I go to this laundromat, it’s to do two things: wash my clothes, and see if I can—just once—finish washing my clothes without having to listen to that song. I want to un-un-break this streak. You try staring at your clothes spinning clockwise at six hundred RPM while listening to the lyric: “Bring back the joy to my heart.” That’s a weird combo. You know, there was one day where I almost made it. I almost got through the entire washing and drying sequence of everything I had without hearing Ms. Braxton’s 1996 hit. I endured “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac. I endured “Constant Craving” by k.d. lang. I endured “Faithfully” by Journey. I endured “Save The Best For Last,” “You’ll Be In My Heart,” and “Fields Of Gold” by the people who do those songs. But I had not yet heard the opening strains of “Un-Break My Heart” and thought I’d made it! I was wheeling all my clothes out the door, in victory, when…it happened! That flamenco-sounding guitar, those perfectly on-the-beat finger snaps, that wordless moaning at the top. “Oh, you got me again, laundromat! You and Braxton can suck it!” The next time I hear that song while I’m there, I’m getting in the dryer. Please close the door behind me.