Musings from the Laundromat: Pins, Pods and Cookie Tins Edition

“Take it Easy” is playing on the laundromat radio – which is apropos considering the mini OCD tantrum I just had in my head.

I got here early today.  I did not want a repeat of last week.  I was rendered completely discombobulated due to my tardiness.  A laundromat hobo … with my cart and belongings, constantly on the move.

Today I have my usual spot and my items are in their usual machines.

When I arrived, after saying ‘hello’ to my laundry lady, I noticed a cotton candy haired older lady in an adorable pink jacket.

At first I wanted to put her in my cotton wool lined pocket with the rest of the adorable older folk I come across.


Not just because she was sweet looking and fluffy-haired – but bonus!  She also looked like Muriel from Courage the Cowardly Dog.


So I’ve got a half-smile on my face and headed toward the coffee, having claimed my spot and ready for some caffeine.

On the way back, I spotted cotton candy hair lady’s cart.

In it – this:


I’ll admit (and probably partially due to the fact that I hadn’t yet ingested any of the coffee) I didn’t notice … and only further sighed at how adorable she was and how I was definitely adding her to my ‘sweet older person memory pocket’.  THEN I noticed.

“Cloth’s Pins”

CLOTH’S pins???

I shouldn’t, but I hold older people to a higher standard.  I expect the older generation to at least give that little wave of thanks that has become such a dying art, when I stop in a parking lot to let them cross in front of me.

I expect the older generation to say “thank you” which, has also become a dying art, when I hold a door open for them.

I also expect, that the older generation knows how to spell.

Prude. I know.  If anything, the older generation has more of an excuse – perhaps she was pulled from school during time of war to help out at home.  OR, maybe she grew up in a poor household and there was no money for school clothes or books.  OR, perhaps she was one of many who came from a home that did not think it was important that the girls of the house even BE educated.  Anyway, I could go on ad infinitum.

Bottom line, there are plenty of reasons to blow my unreasonable expectations out of the water.

But for some reason that little container bothered me.

She used a permanent marker for crying out loud!

AND – inside of the ‘cloth’s pins’ container?



Laundry pods.  *sigh*

For some reason THAT reminded me of THIS:



Only, with her container – there was no doubt.  Those colorful laundry pods had their pod faces smooshed against the plastic.  Definitely laundry pods.

Then again – maybe this whole inner OCD turmoil is all for naught.  What if she used to keep pins in that container for cloths?  Hmmmm….

I’ll go with that, and reserve her spot in my pocket.



A Eulogy worth living

broken swing

I hit an emotional bottom last night.

Just too much going on in the world.

Too much going on in my heart and head.

Too much going on in my immediate circle – people passing, friends and family being ill or broken with this and that. Plus my own recent health scare.

Miss ‘I can live alone’ also has to come to terms with the fact that, approaching 50, and having lost the one person I could imagine sitting in a rocking chair next to, that I may very well BE living alone in my ‘golden years.’

I’m scared.

They’ve recently built an ‘assisted living’ home across the street from where I work.   Next door to us is the administration building. I see people bringing their elderly relatives to discuss housing – knowing once they’re there, that’s it.

They gingerly enter and I want to wrap them all up in cotton wool.  The sadness on their faces – it is my undoing.  But, it’s a great facility.  They’ll be cared for and nourished mentally, emotionally and physically.

There’s to be no assisted living for me.

Let’s face it, I can’t even afford to procure health care right now for the issues I DO have. God forbid something catastrophic happen.

I’m scared of being alone.

I’m scared that I have no nest egg.

I’m scared to die – and, I’m scared I haven’t been ‘good enough.’

Last night I reached out – because my thoughts became very dark.

I needed to hear that I made a difference in some lives. That I was loved.

I needed it like I need oxygen.

Luckily, I’m very picky on my Facebook and so when I do reach out – or if I am a total idiot, I’m accommodated/forgiven depending on what I’ve posted.

I have wonderful friends.

I need to make a point of telling them more often!

I don’t want to eulogize loved ones when they’re gone.  I think people deserve to hear how special they are and what a difference they make in my life while they’re still able to hear it.

Anyway, I needed to hear my eulogy.

Because last night, I wasn’t feeling loved.

I wasn’t feeling ‘good’.

I wasn’t feeling important.

I was feeling completely broken, beaten and hopeless.

I was feeling lost and abandoned.

I was feeling used and discarded.

I was feeling like I wanted to be – done.

Just … done.

to yearn for one’s home

Please know, these were just feelings … I treasure my life. But the feelings were so intense they scared me.

And so – this is why I reached out.

My post said this:

“You know how we have an impact on someone’s life and don’t even know it? I need to know it tonight. Not ‘fishing’ straight up asking, have I, and in what way, had any sort of impact in your life? I need this. I don’t need complete kudos – I just want to know – if I was in anyway ‘good’. Just trust that I’m asking for a good reason – and please don’t ask why. X”

My friends came through for me.

I was given ‘virtual’ love that I so desperately needed.

I was validated.

I was lifted.

And I was not questioned.

I was eulogized and … it made me feel alive.

I saw glimpses of myself that I forgot existed.

I remembered moments shared with far away friends that had faded from memory.

I felt warmth and love.

I felt and still feel, SUCH gratitude for the amazing people who took the time to give me their time when I truly needed it.

I am a blessed woman.

Still hurting … but not feeling so alone.

I am so glad I put my pride aside and spoke up.

hope on swing

Rhubarb and reaching out

I didn’t muse this weekend for three reasons.

  1. My atomic clock went backwards for some reason only known to it. So, while I was padding around the house preparing to shower and gathering the laundry, I thought it was a little after 7 a.m. Turns out, as my eyeballs woke up and my vision cleared that all the other clocks in my house were in disagreement with my bedroom. It was after 8.
  2. Because I was late to the laundromat, all the tables were taken. I did manage to find one, I placed my items atop of it and went back to my car to retrieve something. When I returned a man had decided things on a table meant nothing and he had made himself comfortable in my spot.  This left me wandering aimlessly about the place, my laundry cart in tow, trying to find a place to write. I was completely displaced.
  3. I’m still in a funk. And I know there’s only so many posts anyone wants to read about someone else being in a funk.   I don’t quite know how to describe how I feel right now. Definitely I’m not myself. Definitely I’m missing the man who only two weeks ago was still under my roof. And I’m definitely feeling like I should have pulled the whole movie moment of “NO! Don’t go. It’s a mistake and I DO love you!” Then I would have run gracefully into his arms and it would have been ‘Happily Ever After’ although, to be honest, I would probably have tripped over something or pulled a muscle with such exertion.

Some happy things about this weekend. I DID have some amazing yogurt. (Hey, if I have to pull from the smallest pleasures right now, I’m going to.)  Anyway, it screamed at me from the grocery shelf with a declaration that it contained rhubarb! Rhubarb being a favorite of mine, I absolutely justified the insane cost, because I needed a treat.


I also watched a great movie, August: Osage County – which, I’m sure most of you have already seen, but it was new to me and just amazing performances.


So why must I post now?

The morning began in darkness – as our State does not observe the changing of the clocks. So, while everyone is snuggled in bed at 5 a.m., it’s 6 a.m. for me.

This morning rain fell and wind snapped and I took my hairy manatee out for a blind walk she only half heartedly agreed to participate in.

And I thought of the horrors of this weekend – and how I could only bear to watch so much coverage.

I thought of all of the people hurting and hearts that are broken today.

I thought of the state of our world and I wanted to burst.

I need you – you see.

I need you because I am hurting too.

And no, I’m not comparing my situation in any way to being a victim of a terror attack … but I’m saying – when the world and the hurt just gets too big to hold inside, well, I need YOU.

I need to write.  I need to reach out and know there IS still such good.

Even when I can’t lift my head up to see it sometimes.



A lighter shade of … Violet.

I am ultra sensitive to scents.  Smells.  Fragrances.  They mean SO much to me.  They either bring back fond memories, or alert me to danger.

Tonight – I lit, again, the Parma Violets candle my mum bought me whilst in England.  I only lit it the first time because I was reminded of Erma Bombeck (Remember her? Great writer.)


What I never forgot that she said was this: “I would have burnt the pink candle that was sculptured like a rose before it melted while being stored.”

I’m trying to live like that.

I’ve been going through a scary time lately – and not just the loss of a love.  I caved and went to a doctor (in lieu of MY doctor who is on vacation and good for him! NO sarcasm intended at all!)

There was a good reason I may (and still might) have a blood clot in my leg.  And I was (still am) scared.

Alas!  (As she puts her hand to her forehead and appears as a damsel in distress)  I can’t afford the %&^ing ultra sound I need to rule it out!

(Swearing now swipes the damsel in distress image out no?)


I lit that candle.  Knowing – enjoy what you have.  Don’t save it!!!!!

Then I got to thinking about ‘smells’.  How important they are to me.

My Nannie was recently in the hospital – she’s 92.  My memories of her are tied into her greenhouse.  The smell of wood – and soil – and tomato plants.


Then I got to thinking about Jim (of course) and he never wore cologne.  He was natural.  BUT!  Had a scent. And I’m loathing having to wash my bedding this weekend. I feel like it’s the final ‘Goodbye’.  I made sure to spray everything I use on a t-shirt for him to have – and all I have is – what still is.




Yeah, I went from that guy – (who, now I look back on, was already depressed to be where he was)  to that pillow that seriously needs a washing.

Sorry – tangent.  I fucking miss him.  I do.  But I’m also not going to lie – I love … what do I love?   Having a home I don’t feel like I’m a guest in.  And he didn’t make me feel that way – I played host for too long.

I couldn’t afford to make that ‘visit’ fun anymore.

Tangent over.


I still completely SNIFF L’Oreal lipstick – to ME, it smells like violet.


I think I’ve only bought two – because they’re expensive and I can’t justify the cost.  But, my GOD! They smell Freaking amazing.

Plus, I’m not a ‘make up’ chick.

ANYWAY!  Butters is feeling a loss – and I’ve positioned things in my bathroom (lol) so, when I’m squatted, I see what I love.  My son – and my love.

When will his pic come down?  That’s up to him.




Bottom line here is – I’m still healing.

And I am sitting here smelling violet and I am calm.

But – I miss my guy.  And I’m so glad we grabbed the chance – and I’m so glad I lit the candle.  Life is … I want to say ‘short’ but I’m reminded by George Carlin – it’s the longest thing we’re going to do  – so why say that? lol.



Musings from the Laundromat: Gotta Stop Sobbing edition

Almost every morning while brushing my teeth a song pops into my head.  Very random songs from every genre of music.  I like to think it’s my subconscious sending me a message.

Today it was this song:

I have been (unsuccessfully) trying to hold myself together since my love left on Thursday.

I threw myself into cleaning the house – rearranging furniture – nesting basically.  And every night I’ve reached out for a foot that used to be there.

I’ve been a wreck internally – but smiling and carrying on because I know that’s what people want me to do.

But it’s important that I mend.

This morning, I put my clothes in the washing machines and headed off to run an errand.  On my drive I saw the most amazing thing.  Dozens of black birds sitting on and around a beautiful irrigation gate on the Indian reservation.  I immediately wanted to take a photo – but thought, “I’ll do it on the way back.”

On the way back – they were gone.

I missed that opportunity.  Something beautiful was there and I put off capturing it, but I did at least have the moment.

I’m feeling a little like that now with life.

But, I’ve got to stop sobbing and appreciate that I had the moment.





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