washing time

The weather was beautiful again today, but also stupidly cold and windy, so I didn't stay outdoors long enough to take a pretty picture. Through this corridor on the right is the washing room for my building and we have to come here every time we want to reserve a washing time. The place is always completely deserted, dark, and creepy as shit. I really hate going here, I always have the feeling that the doors are going to slam shut behind me and I'll be locked in there with the washing machines and tumble dryers forever.

I had a great conversation with the cashier at the petrol station later on:

cashier: blablabla
me: oh, sorry, i don't speak swedish
cashier: (pause) was it good?
me: sorry?
cashier: was... it... good?
me: sorry, i dont understand
cashier: the.. this thing that you buy. is it the thing that you wanted to buy?
me: yeah, yes it is thanks
cashier: OK. that is good. do you want a receipt?

Somehow cashiers in Sweden, no matter how bad their English, always without fail remember to ask me if I want a receipt.