45 & 47.  Those are the washing machines I bravely claimed after asking “Is someone using this one do you know?” of a table of strangers.  MY OCD be damned – there would have to be a machine interrupting the numerical flow.

This morning was the second in a row of me waking and being so relieved to realize I could not only hit my snooze button, but go back to sleep again.

And I did find sleep once more, giving me long enough to have a disturbing dream.  I woke an hour and a half later, remembering that I certainly did NOT want to miss out on a good seat and good machines.

I leaped into action! Started a pot of coffee, let Butters out – (who, had decided since the first bleat of my alarm, that there were many, many things close to my bed that resembled drums when thumped with her tail), gathered all household laundry, brushed my teeth, ran a brush through my hair and tossed on some clothes.

I then proceeded to forget my coffee inside three times.

I had been up for 10 minutes, bleary eyed and in that ‘late to school!’ mode.

The neighbors dog decided my laundry baskets, plonked down outside of my gate, were intruders.  Barking madly as I went back in the third time to grab my coffee.

Everything finally in the car – and off I went. Still half asleep.

There were only two cars in front of the laundromat, relief washed over me again. (No pun intended.)

This place is much like a Tardis though – the outside does not lend an accurate picture of the inside.

Inside I was met by more people than expected.  And my favorite machines almost all taken.

Thus the dilemma of having to use 45 & 47.

#46 had a lavender basket atop of it, like a quarter on a pinball machine.  The strangers at the table weren’t sure if the two either side of that one were ‘taken’ – and while I’d usually back away and find another machine out of respect, this week I was staking my claim.

Rewind.

As tired as I am, as I waddled unevenly with two baskets of laundry and balancing my pouting coffee on one finger, (it was still a little upset I forgot it three times) I noticed a sign on the door.

“Absolutely no dogs allowed inside without medical identification!”

Now, obviously I knew what they meant, but I was hit with an image of some random pup walking in sporting a shiny tag stating its medical condition.

Laundry person: “You!  You there … dog!  You can’t come in!”

Dog: “It’s ok, I have allergies.”

I was still amused by this as I leaned against the counter waiting for my turn with the laundry lady.

Her: “Fresh pot of coffee just made!”

Me: “Thank gawd!”

Her: “I think that old man is mad at me.  He keeps looking over because I have blankets in the industrial dryers.”

Me: “Well, he keeps cutting his eyes at you, you come get me.

Her: (laughs) “Ok.”

I adore her.  She’s always so nice.  I remember when she had to find a new place to live and was exhausted from moving – but still had a smile on her face.  I love that she has been part of my Sunday mornings for over 4 years.

I put what I can in her tip jar, which I’m pretty sure is meant for the customers who take advantage of the full service laundry that they offer.  But I like to show my appreciation anyway.

Isn’t it odd, that she is a part of my routine … my life, and so many others I’m sure.  I want her to know it.  To feel special and to know I’m grateful.

And as I glance up, I can see her folding someone elses laundry, while scanning the room to be sure everything is running as smoothly as the seams she irons – and I’m feeling a litte silly for being ruffled over having to use two machines that did not sit side by side.

As my boyfriend said this morning on my Facebook (accompanied by one of his old school photos lol) – I’m the luckiest girl ever.

And I am.

Everything that should truly matter, matters to me.  I’m grateful for everything I have and everything I don’t.

And really glad Butters doesn’t have allergies.