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Musings from the laundromat – Fathers Day edition
There are more men here today than usual. I look at them, and wonder – ‘are you a father?’.
One man in particular was checking his phone as I stood next to him at the washing machines, my overactive imagination had him being disappointed that he had not received a text from his children.
Probably he was just checking the time. But, not in my mind.
We have a couple of patrons that I would love to talk to – first, The Man Under the Rainbow Umbrella.
In person, he looks the sort to still use a cloth handkerchief. I imagine him refolding the newspaper he’s reading before he leaves. Taking it home and placing it in the same spot his Sunday newspaper has been set down for years.
Then he’ll carry his freshly cleaned items to his bedroom, sparsely decorated, and proceed to put them away.
He’s tidy. Efficient. Probably has his Sunday dinner decided upon when he shops for his weeks groceries.
Of course, now I’m noticing the small pink and white slippers on the table next to him and wondering, does he have an ill wife at home?
If so, I love him more. He’s doing the laundry and including her slippers. Bless his heart.
Our next patron is the mysterious Man of Mystery and Adventure.
He’s sporting an Indian Jones hat. And, no, that is NOT a purse hanging from his laundry cart. It’s his dusty satchel! Probably has a map in it. Yes it does. He feels safe carrying his documents with him into a small town laundromat. Of course, the jig is up, as I have spotted him. He doesn’t know how MUCH I know, but he knows I know.
There really are so very many men here today. Only 2 women … strange. Shouldn’t it have been that ratio on Mothers Day??
If you’re a dad, happy Fathers Day.
If you’re the father of daughters, treat women the way you would want your little girl to be treated – we notice that more. Be the man who takes the pink and white slippers to the laundromat.
Wishing you a day of love and appreciation.
Waking and winking and windows with locust
I found the locust. Well, they’ve still been out and about, but not in the vast numbers they were not too long ago. I think most of them gather on my porch at night. I forget to keep my porch light off. I digress.
I pulled up to the laundromat and spotted them.
Okay, so there’s only 4 or 5 on the window, but they’re everywhere in the parking lot.
I was allowed to sleep in until 5:30 am this morning. Butters was either a) feeling generous or b) tuckered herself out with her Shar Pei/Shepherd shenanigans. I’m leaning towards b. Although, there’s a strong argument for a choice ‘c’ … That I was too tired to notice any earlier attempts at arousal. Is that the right word? Okay, that’s funny. I’m leaving it in and not even going to google. OCD be damned.
Bottom line is I ‘arose’ and decided I’d be at the laundromat as soon as they opened. Then hop from here to the grocery store. THEN … I’m cleaning the house in ‘ten-second-tidy’ fashion and hitting the couch.
I even decided in the car on the way over that I was going to try out ‘sassy’ today. Thought I might even wink at a fellow laundromat patron if one made eye contact. Male, female – didn’t matter. It would be one of those friendly ‘hey there – alright?’ winks.
I’m not very good at winking. If I try with my right eye, the entire right side of my face scrunches up and I end up impersonating Popeye.
I can pull off a left eye wink, but I can’t support it with the casual confidence to make it look like anything more than a twitch.
Those realizations, coupled with the fact that my table was taken, sucked all the wink mood right out of me.
I’m at the kiddy table under that damned rainbow umberella again. Add insult to injury, the lady that works here walked by and mentioned I need a new laundry basket. Hmph!
They sell them, and if I’m interested I should let her know.
Good grief.
Musings from the laundromat
I should have named my blog that. ‘Musings from the laundromat’.
There’s something about being here that affords me the ability to declutter my mind and exhale. I wonder, if someone said, “Hey, I have a washer and dryer you can have” if I would take them up on it?
Yeah, I totally would – but I don’t hate being here.
Usually there’s music playing in here, but not today. It’s vewy, vewy, quiet. We’re rabbit hunting. Shhhhh.
And a cart rumbling by breaks the silence. To my right is an older couple. The man is reading and as I glanced over, I caught the eye of the woman. I smiled. I’m not sure if she smiled back or if she was trying to get a piece of food out of her molar. Her mouth moved and there’s fast food in front of her – hard to tell.
They’re actually sitting at my table of preference. Hmph! I’m under a rainbow clothed umbrella at an absurd little round table for four. Like something you would see at an amusement park food court.
Fun fun fun! Woooo! Watch the dryers tumble from your fun 4 red seated table.
Actually, from here I have a view of the bathrooms and the back door.
My table is open …. right this way. Now I can show you the amusement park table.
My keyboard keeps locking up on me. Obviously in between the woooo! And my table being vacated, time passed. That time lapse would be me trying to get my ipad’s blue tooth keyboard to respond to me.
And the post was so thrilling! Can’t believe my train of thought was derailed.
Okay. So let’s muse.
Its Saint Patricks day today, I’m going to make fajitas. And, since I don’t drink, there will be no green beer or Irish Whiskey. Not entirely sure why Americans celebrate St. Patricks day? I mean, unless that’s your ancestry.
I’m from the United Kingdom and wouldn’t be able to tell you much about the day. I think there were snakes and a guy named Patrick drove them out? How did that translate to green beer?
Reminds me of a joke I tell my friend Mario every year (he taught it to me, but it’s our ‘thing’ we do)
Q: Why do Americans celebrate Cinco de Mayo?
A: Because they can’t pronounce dias y seis de Septiembre
Love it. And yes, I know America is a melting pot, but for all intents and purposes I’m referring to non-Irish Americans and non-Hispanic Americans.
Just cracks me up. Any excuse for a party. Because I don’t buy the diversity of culture acceptance crap. I’d love that to be true. But then I picture a sloppy drunk blonde on a bar wearing a collection of green beads, her stomach wet from a body shot and yelling “I’m here to honor the Irish and their rich history! Yeah baby!”
And that hope dies.
Then in my imagination, she falls off the bar. Ha!
Would be great though, wouldn’t it? If everyone was so accepting and tolerant of one another and celebrated heritages not their own.
The only green thing I hope to see today is fall out from that CME. I do hope for green skies. Seeing an aurora is on my bucket list.
What happens when you cross everything off your list?! Oof! I guess go to the laundromat, clear your cluttered head and start a new one eh?
Well, my dryer has 6 minutes left on it – so I will thank you for keeping me company during my outing.
And if you are going to party today, be safe, have fun and watch out for snakes and falling blondes.
Soup out.
My Dirty Laundry
Scandalous … eye-catching. But yeah, this is really about my dirty laundry. Literally.
The only thing scandalous that happened was someone took the laundry cart I’d selected and I had to pick another one. :-O
Here’s what I wrote for you.
Busier than usual at the laundromat today. “You’ve lost that loving feeling” is playing on the little boombox (are they still called that?).
Smells of fabric softener, detergent and warmth in here. The white noise of the dryers hum over ‘don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t let it slip away’.
All clothes sound so soft tumbling around in an industrial dryer! I swear, the scratchiest article of clothing would sound like a fluffy, high count cotton towel in there.
I like watching people fold. I mean, I don’t stare at them or anything, but I notice.
My favorite ‘folder’ was a wisp of a man. I dubbed him ‘Handkerchief Man’.
He must have had at least two dozen of them at his folding table. All white.
He halved, smoothed, quartered, smoothed. Then placed the little square to one side once he was satisfied.
Okay, I did stare at him. I got lost in his concentration. He was old and thin, I wanted to wrap him in cotton wool he looked so fragile. He kept folding, I was smiling. Inventing his back story in my hypnotic state – just dreamy.
That is, until he walked past me muttering one foul word after another. I was shocked – a giggle bubbled up into my throat. It had to have been some sort of tourettes or illness saying those words, not my delicate old gentleman!
I saw him a couple of months later in line at the bank. He was muttering again, appearing a lot less precious without his linens.
Today I’m sat in a chair in a corner. My usual spot and my back up spot taken. Great view of the room though.
How must I look scribbling onto my little yellow pad? Am I now someones ‘Writing Girl’? I’ll look different at the bank. LOL!
There are 4 machines by the front windows. A ‘grabby’ game with cheap stuffed prizes, a beverage vending machine and two antiquated video games. I know one has ‘Frogger’ on it. (Before the novelty of the laundromat wore off, Nic used to come with me. We ventured over that direction with some quarters).
Now I come alone. Usually I’ll toss the dirty into a couple of machines then leave to run other errands.
Not today.
It takes half an hour for the wash to finish – then I grab a cart (usually a yellow one, my favorite color) and push over to the dryers. Nine times out of ten, a pair of underwear (always mine of course) mischievously throws itself to the floor during transfer. I do the glance around, bend, scoop and grab manuever hoping no one saw. Dryers take about twenty minutes.
I don’t mind so much coming here. It’s nice to get all the loads done at once. Sometimes though, I wish I had my ‘days off’ to be at home.
I smell of bleach from my part-time Sunday morning job – I’m grateful though.
When I get home with the clean laundry, I’ll put mine away. Give Nic his basket (where his clothes will stay until he dips in for something he needs).
I’ll take a shower, put comfy ‘at home’ clothes on and take the afternoon to refresh before starting dinner.
That’s after I share this with you of course.
You can always count on me to share my dirty laundry.
Debauchery Soup 