Category Archives: Musings from the laundromat
We interrupt this hamster …
Nic bought himself a hamster on his birthday.
Yesterday I tried to worm my way into its heart by offering it a sweet potato Triscuit as it’s been hissing at me. Of course, it was asleep – so I placed it on its ‘food deck’.
Nic: Are you trying to buy her love?
Me: Yes
Nic: Well I’m taking credit for that Triscuit
Me: You’d better tell her that was from me!!!
This thing doesn’t so much ‘hiss’ as manages to get a sound out of its throat that resembles a velociraptor and that croaking thing from The Grudge.
Sort of like this: http://youtu.be/-fzfT4iDGTM
But with more of this thrown in: http://youtu.be/hMvFo4cd02o
It’s name is “Scarlett”.
That isn’t what I named it on the drive home from the pet shop.
I drove Nic’s car so that he could sit on in the passenger seat with the rodent carrier box on his lap.
“Mom! Careful of the bumps!” Really? Really Nic. I drive expertly. Hmph!
His newly acquired pet scratched on the box the entire way home. I lovingly named her Scratchy and wasn’t budging – until yesterday.
Her new name is Satan.
I had my reservations about this new pet. Not because she’s a rodent – I love rodents. I’ve been the proud rodent mom to a long history of rats, mice, hamsters …
***Breaking News – We interrupt this blog entry to announce that a random male laundromat patron has just chosen to sit DIRECTLY behind me in a rogue chair, no less than a foot away! If anything happens to me, he can be found with a blue plastic laundry hamper – and a size 10 flip-flop mark on his forehead if he gets any closer.***
Back to the reservations.
Like most moms, any new pet that crossed our threshold was OH so loved and enjoyed for about a week – and then it magically became mine.
My fish bowls to clean, my fish to feed, my mouse to cedar chip etc. OH! Speaking of cedar chips
You know what? This is useless. I can feel that man … it is really hard to write.
I just got up, had to literally try not to back up into his foot, and went to check on my laundry. It was done – and in a brief moment when he wasn’t looking at me – I snapped this photo. I’m sitting at the red table, with my back to him … you can see the close proximity of his chosen spot.
Seriously guy – it’s a HUGE laundromat! Add to that, he keeps clearing his throat. It’s like having a teacher lean uncomfortable over you during class.
I have 14 minutes remaining on the driers – I shall stand awkwardly staring at the time elapsing until it’s time to go. Because even though I could just MOVE to another table, I don’t want to hurt his feelings! This is how fucked up I am. I can’t even scoot away from a possible predator without thinking about how they might feel about it.
Musings from the Laundromat: Clocks and Curbs edition
I woke up this morning, turned my sleepy head to the clock and thought ‘Wow! I slept in!’ Clock said it was after eight. I couldn’t see how much after eight it was, my nighttime drink cup was blocking the minutes.
Decided to leap into action. Figured I’d shower after I returned and had cleaned the house – threw a pair of jeans on, ran a brush through my hair and heated a cup of coffee to-go.
That’s when I noticed the clock on the kitchen wall.
For some bizarre reason, my bedroom clock time traveled.
It decided to Spring Forward – not even caring that we in Arizona do not observe the time change and completely ignoring the fact that if we did it was the wrong weekend to do so.
Bottom line, I was now ahead of myself.
I gathered my laundry – hunted the usual spots that my son’s laundry lurks, captured and bagged those items and headed out the door.
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The laundromat opens at 8:00 a.m., but I’ve noticed that the sweet laundry lady usually opens a bit early. I know this as I have arrived at eight on the dot and there have already been early birds sitting with their newspapers while their clothes are enjoying a wash cycle.
Deduction. I am capable of it. Gold star for me.
This morning, the pavement in front of the laundromat was littered with people. People and an assortment of baskets.
It wasn’t quite 8:00, so I wasn’t too concerned.
I carried my items over into the fray and plopped down on the curb to wait and sip my coffee.
One lady in particular kept pushing up against the glass – repeating the same Captain Obvious sentences over and over – and over.
“Something must be wrong!”
“They’re usually open by now!”
No shit.
She probably announced those two things at least a dozen times to anyone who would listen.
I sat. And sipped.
I’m pretty damn patient.
Except when it comes to listening to people who aren’t.
It was 8:10 now – OMG!
“Something must be wrong!!!!”
A new car pulled in – which had everyone who had previously been pressed against the door, turning like curious dogs in a yard.
When newcomer exited their vehicle, ‘something must be wrong’ lady filled them in.
“The lights aren’t even on! The lights at the counter are even off!”
Which she followed up with this gem as another newcomer arrived approximately 3 minutes later:
“The lights are on, but nobody’s home!”
Okay, which is it lady? Lights are either on or off.
‘Something must be wrong’ lady is the sort of person I can’t stand having behind me or in front of me in any line. Whether it’s the grocery store or the pharmacy or the bank.
Impatient – and loud about it. Sighing and clucking and complaining. I’ll use my ‘You know, there are people who would give anything to be standing in this line right now’ from time to time, but mostly I roll my eyes and enter a trance like state to block out the squawking.
The whole time, I’m sitting and sipping and thinking “Probably she slept in.”
I was willing to wait until 8:30, then I would put plan B into action – do laundry after work on Monday.
The panic mongers weren’t willing to wait.
They drove off, one by one. Leaving me – and two others to greet the laundry lady a mere 2 minutes after they gave up.
The door opened and I turned and smiled.
“So sorry” she said, “I didn’t hear my alarm this morning.”
“I’m glad you’re okay.” I replied.
I got up from the curb – went inside and was able to stuff my favorite washing machines and claim my favorite seat.
Patience has such rewards.
Musings from the Laundromat: Little Basket, Blue Ticket and Panty Lines
8:15 a.m.
The ground is wet outside from a recent storm that passed through our thirsty desert – the sky is clear, birds are singing – and I’m sat in an almost empty laundromat at a table that is always my 3rd choice to perch at.
There is a couple at the ‘umbrella table’. I regarded them as I stuffed two washing machines to their capacity. (I was stuffing mostly because I was too lazy to stop half way through and go back to the ‘Value Transfer Machine’ and add more money to my laundry card.) As I was doing this, another couple came in the back door.
“Still here huh?”
“Yeah” said the umbrella table couple.
I wanted to interject some sarcasm – but kept my head down and stuffed. Why do we do that? Confirm that people right in front of us are, in fact, actually there? Or ask acquaintances that we see in a grocery store or a bank “Hi! What are you doing here?”
8:30 a.m.
I noticed this little tiny laundry basket unattended when I first sat down.
Can you see it? Barely? That’s how little it is. I sat and wondered, while typing, who the owner of the basket was and how much laundry could possibly fit in it to warrant a trip here.
I mean seriously, compare the hangers to the basket and probably, what, only 5 shirts?
Mystery was solved for me.
There are now bags on the folding table as the owner of the little tiny basket returned.
That’s more than 5 shirts.
The basket was a red herring.
He’s back outside in his car now – not before bending over at the dryers and giving me an eyefull that made a very clear point that Mr. Little Basket needs a belt.
8:40 a.m.
Time to check my washing machines.
8:45 a.m.
They were finished. And I ended up making that trip to the ‘Value Transfer Machine’ after I also stuffed the driers and realized they would need more time to successfully dry my stuffings.
Why do I have so much laundry today?? Nic must have worn every pair of jeans, shorts and t-shirts he owned last week. OR (and this is probably closer to the truth) I’ve just washed clean clothes that somehow returned to his hamper.
I found these in his pockets – another mystery!
The receipt is for Carls Jr. – no mystery there – but the ticket! Hmmm … wonder when he got that. Is there a prize on the line? Or did it grant him access to a meal somewhere. And if it is food related, why is he going to Carls Jr. and blue ticket places without me?
8:55 a.m.
Okay, since I’ve shared about other’s laundry, I’ll tell you a funny story about me.
Yesterday I was getting dressed while half awake – and as I was walking from the closet to my master bathroom, I noticed something in the mirror.
You know I’ve been working out, and I’m actually seeing results. There are muscles on my belly where no muscles have been before. It’s really quite exciting.
So I’m walking – and noticing – and my eyes widen and I think “Oh! That is a LOT of definition!’
I got closer to the mirror and felt like a complete idiot.
Here is a photo of what I saw (only much blurrier in reality)
It was the string of my underwear.
Hey! From across the room it looked an awful lot like that ‘V’ I see on muscle-y people going from their hips on down!
I laughed pretty hard at that before I took the photo.
9:05 a.m.
Time to wrap this up and do the ‘Drier Dance’. This is when I snatch dry items out, while leaving the damp items in to continue on their tumble, and shuffle back and forth to the folding tables.
Oh! Thought you’d like to see how capable ‘Little Basket’ was of holding things.
This looks like a complete set of bedding!
Morals of today’s musings:
Never judge a man by the size of his laundry basket
If someone is right in front of you, they’re probably there
Underwear is not a muscle.
Musings from the Laundromat: College and Hypoallergenic Tortoises Edition
Ah college … the smell of new books, freshly sharpened pencils purchased lap tops, and visions of professors and libraries …
Nic’s first day of classes went well. I came home to him smiling – feeling confident – a sheen of ‘eau de higher education/grown up’ glistening on his skin.
Then he had math.
I received a call at work approximately 10 minutes before it was time to leave.
“That math class is so stupid! The teacher doesn’t explain and I have no idea what PAGES we’re supposed to do!!”
“OK, calm down – we’ll talk when I get home.”
My little bundle of college joy was freaking out.
The entire way home, all the cogs in my mind were turning.
Tutor … I could find a way to get a tutor. He can find his math teacher before the work is due and ask for clearer direction. He has to pass or his grant will be due and payable! Who do I know that’s good at math?? Why does he stress out so quickly? What did I do wrong? He used to be good at math.
Considering the fact that my drive home is 10 minutes, these were a lot of thoughts. And now that I’ve typed them out, I think I answered my ‘why does he stress out’ question.
Came to the conclusion though, that unless he wants to succeed – it didn’t matter what idea ‘Momma’ came up with.
We sat and discussed this. He said he would find a way.
I have to let go. I can’t solve problems for him anymore. I can steer him back to the crux of the situation though.
“Do you still want a degree?”
“Yes.”
“Then, you’ll find a way. If you want it, you just will.”
Inside I was agreeing with him though, that math does suck.
Now another bundle of joy story.
Friday, it was planned that I would accompany one of my nearest and dearest friends to collect her grand baby for the weekend.
I was happy to go along for the ride – besides getting to sniff baby head and bite little toes, the 45 minute drive was a great way to catch up with my friend.
We arrived at my friends mothers house and … OH! Look at this tree! It lives in her moms yard and when I saw it, I thought of Harry Potter, then of course, I had to take a photo.
Back to the story.
We enter the house and I headed straight to baby after saying ‘hello’ to friends mom.
You may only see a foot as I don’t know if the baby’s mom would be okay with some random person posting photographs of her daughter online.
I thought we were heading back to our town, but it turned out we were going to dinner.
I’m always up for dinner.
Long story short …
OK!
So we’re at the restaurant, and I’m remembering that not so long ago, the baby’s foot was a lot smaller. And the baby was doing all kinds of things baby couldn’t do last time I saw her.
“She’s getting so big!”
“Well, last time you saw her she was 3 months old.”
No way. Couldn’t be.
“It can’t have been that long!”
Apparently, yes it could have been that long – and my friend had proof.
Friend and friends mother exchanged glances and I knew, there was a very good reason they were certain of the last time I saw baby.
“That’s when we found out she’s allergic to animals.”
OH NO!
Butters.
Color me guilty and embarrassed … but then, I turned it around.
“So! I will always be part of her story! She had a ‘first’ after being at my house!”
*groan* I know! It’s not a good first! I was trying to stay positive.
I looked at my friend and said “You’re welcome.”
The drive home was filled with more catching up – and baby fell asleep.
My friend and I were yawning – but she had one more stop.
“I’ve got to see if the tortoise is outside of the chamber.”
“Oh my gawd, we’re those old people who stop and look at things like ‘Worlds Largest Ball of Yarn’ on road trips.”
Then: “It’s dark, how are we going to see a tortoise?”
I needn’t have worried.
“What’s it made of?!?”
“Metal I think, get out and touch it.”
“I’m not touchin’ it. You’ll leave me here.”
“No I won’t.”
“Well, I’m not touching it.”
“You’re going to blog about this aren’t you?”
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Yes, Denice – yes I did.
Musings from the Laundromat: ‘Green Blue and Red things’ Edition
Came SO close to not coming today.
I’ve been ill since Christmas, yesterday I felt a lot better after becoming one with the couch all day, only throwing clothes on for my weekend job.
This morning I woke at 5:30 am and ended up falling asleep again like some modern-day old lady. Instead of reading glasses slipping down my nose and a book in my hand, I nodded off with my ipad on my chest.
I dreamed then of my keys and trying to figure out how to take my dog through a mall and outside so that she could relieve herself.
Hey, if you’re going to dream, dream big right?
My subconscious was obviously telling me ‘get your arse up – you have somewhere to be and a 4 legged manatee that can’t let herself out. ‘
I realized at my second waking – that I felt rotten.
I mentally counted how many pairs of clean underwear I had remaining and decided it didn’t matter. I can’t relax knowing I have skipped a chore anyway.
So here I am.
Ooo! But not after this sign I ignored – I got into the car and the first lyrics I heard were those of a Maroon Five song.
“Please don’t go …”
Of course then I sat in the car wondering if Adam Levine knew something I didn’t.
Still – duty won out.
The drive was uneventful – then at the counter I was faced with a conundrum.
The laundromat leaves their key cards on the counter for you to select one. I usually pick yellow. Today there were only two, blue and green.
One of my favorite people on the planet favors the color blue, another, green.
What should have been a simple task of just grabbing a card became an internal conflict. Felt like I was picking one person over the other rather than a piece of plastic.
Yes, this is how my mind works (or malfunctions?) all the time.
I picked this one.
I hope the person who loves green doesn’t see.
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Found this in my sons pants pocket …
It’s a good thing I check pockets.
Last week I found his debit card – which made me wonder if perhaps the time to stop doing your child’s laundry for them is when they OWN a flipping debit card.
I have no idea what the ‘thing’ is. But judging from the three tiny batteries inside, it’s probably good I rescued it from a certain watery death.
I’ll ask him when I get home. I won’t be able to sleep tonight not knowing now.
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Clothes are now in the dryers.
It’s become ever more apparent that I’m under the weather – as my OCD is accompanying me on every small mission.
I picked dryer number 43 and dryer number 45 for the honor of participating in my task at hand.
Because I’m 44.
These next 30 minutes had better go fast, because I’ll either fall asleep at this table, with my head on my ipad – or start arranging the laundry carts according to color.
I think definitely I need more rest. After I clean the house – and discover what the ‘thing is.
Unless I hear a song with the lyrics: “Don’t clean” or “Don’t worry .. about a thing”
Wait – isn’t that Bob Marley??
He liked green too.
Debauchery Soup 