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.
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.
It’s a revolution! Laundromat musings are rampant!
So I’m still feeling fuzzy – and watching my Packers win – and my friend Krystal mentions that she too, is feeling fuzzy.
It turned into an IM fest. Spoiler alert to men – we talk about ‘Girl’ stuff. Like, girly PERIOD stuff. And quilting. You have been warned.
Started out with my Facebook status:
And, you know me – after I edited out the names – I saw all KINDS of ‘stuff’ in the purple. LOL!
First guy is in his sleeping bag. Second guy is stretching out in his sleeping bag, 3rd guy had someone joining him (oh Myyyyyyyyyy) and 4th guy was makin’ it happen. LOL! I did not intend any of those pics.
So – Krystal took me seriously and we went covert – AKA – IM.
For the record, my post was:
“Feel BLAH! Never felt happier to get OUT of the laundromat. Blasted ‘Take me to Church’ on the way home, trying to shake some of the cobwebs loose and give me the energy to clean and put these clothes away. Then I’m putting as little clothing on as possible (no, not for sex appeal) and resting some more! I’m so hot.”
And here’s the back and forth:
Krystal: I’ve got that weird hazy head, strange heart thumping thing going. I hate this.
Me: I seriously was ok with this being on the wall. I’m sorry … yeah bonkers huh??? Fuzzy – hot – cold – hot – ears ringing – teeth feel loose – SO tired.
Krystal: I’m hoping its just indigestion or something. Doctors always blame it on panic attacks. However, I’m not panicking!
Me: heart pounding OMG!!!!!!! I had heartburn for the first time in YEARS on Friday and two days before that too! I never get that!
Me: Pre-menopause. Yeah – ug. I wish when our eggs were useless, we could just *poof* be done!
Krystal: Im like once every 2 months but she comes with a vengeance!
Krystal: I have a coworker who was on it fir 2 months straight.
Krystal: Well… I’m hoping it’s what causes “fuzzy.” Either that or I’m going to die young.
Me: Oh you are not! I think we must both have a bug
Krystal: I’m washing a quilt. One person smiled at me.
Krystal: This is kind of a grungy place
Krystal: I’m not fantastic. I learn from my mistakes. Omg, life analogy.
Me: I think sewing mistakes at least showed you cared to try, and yeah, life analogy right? Write!
Me: Right? I’m sorry sweetie. I’m lucky I get to chill right now. Oh, and butters is puking in the yard
There is just so much going on right now. Personally, Locally, Nationally, Globally.
Wasn’t sure how I was going to convey all that I felt about it until I was in the shower. I remembered that it’s okay not to know. And that pretty much tied everything together. “I don’t know.”
I’ve shared my opinion here in many posts – that it’s so easy to jump to conclusions (one of the few exercises I participate in unfortunately – but knowing this and not liking it is the first step to changing it.)
Unless it’s happened to you – or you were there – you can not believe everything you read, hear or even see.
Even then I suppose it’s subject to perception.
I jumped on the Justice for Trayvon bandwagon with no first hand information – I got sucked into the media circus. I do believe, with absolute certainty, that we, as humans, can be persuaded to one side of an argument or another if only one side is pushed down our throats around the clock.
I have to step back today and remind myself:
I was not there.
I do not know.
Still, as a mother and a human, my gut is uneasy with the ruling. George Zimmerman IS guilty of killing Trayvon Martin. Did the prosecution have enough evidence to prove that he killed him unjustifiably? Beyond a reasonable doubt?
I don’t know.
Obviously we have a deceased 17-year-old who died at the hands of another – that’s evidence enough for me to warrant some sort of justice!
The uneasiness I feel stems from the fact that there appears to be no justice. But again, I don’t know that.
I don’t know if George Zimmerman has night terrors, is wracked with guilt – if his wife lies beside him at night thinking he’s a monster now. If he’ll ever be able to resume any semblance of a ‘normal’ life. He was judged in the court of public opinion – and that court does not adjourn.
My heart breaks for the Martin family. I do know this. There is no coming back for Trayvon. Not from this.
Onto Cory Monteith. One of my guilty pleasures is the television show ‘Glee.’ I was saddened to hear that one of its stars passed away.
Only 31 years old. And why does it seem like more of a loss when someone is young and talented?
Shouldn’t every life should be both celebrated and mourned when it comes to an end?
Cause of death has not been determined yet, but, since they’ve stated foul play does not seem to be a factor, and since Cory recently exited a rehabilitation facility for substance abuse – the threads about his death have concluded (without actually knowing yet) that he died of an overdose.
He was found alone in a hotel in Canada by staff after he failed to checkout by checkout time.
For all the fame and wealth and celebrity that he had – he is gone and not coming back.
It doesn’t make a difference to me what cause of death was. It’s a terrible shame and my heart goes out to his family, friends and to his fans.
If it was an overdose, I hope intelligent conversations can shed light on the issue of addiction. That some good can come from that conversation.
On a personal note, I spoke with a dear friend yesterday that lost someone she loved. The cause of death is also unknown – but what is known points to suicide.
She is left not knowing. Wondering. Living with questions and regrets. And even if the autopsy report concludes ‘overdose’ – she will still not know.
Did he mean to end his life? Was it an accidental overdose? Was it a cry for help that went too far? Because – he too, is not coming back. What is left are the people who knew and loved him trying to pick up the pieces and digest what they don’t know in order to move forward with their lives.
“I don’t know.” Not knowing something puts us in fear.
Then again, I would rather hear “I don’t know” from someone rather than be given false information.
And when I’m asked a question I don’t have an answer for – I admit it. Then if it’s important enough to me, I’ll educate myself on the topic or research an answer.
In my personal life – I’ve taken the very blunt, play-no-games approach. I know how it feels to be in the dark – to not know where I stand. I choose today to not make someone else feel that way. It’s not kind and it’s not fair.
But then life is often not what I would consider ‘fair’. I’ll speak for myself when I say that I tend to want what I consider a just, and reasonable beginning, middle and end. But life is not like that.
I don’t know, but I would imagine the Martin and Monteith families probably agree today.