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Musings from the Laundromat: Debt, Dental Issues and Dali edition
Glaucoma man is in rare form today.
Complaining about his credit card company and how they didn’t send a statement – about customer service and how he couldn’t understand their accents.
Personally, (having worked in collections) I’m pretty sure you know every month you owe X amount of money and if you aren’t reminded, it’s still on you to send that payment.
His version was a lot more colorful and racist and while he was telling the story, he was too close to me for comfort.
We all have our personal space bubbles. Mine was being violated. But, he’s harmless. Well, physically harmless. His words are pretty offensive sometimes.
He just came over again asking me for advice.
I told him to play the age card. Tell them you need that statement as a reminder. BUT, I also told him what I just told you.
And he giggled. Yes, giggled. And acknowledged that yes, he did know exactly how much was due and probably could have popped it in the mail.
MEANWHILE, Laundry Lady is doing an amazingly accurate impersonation of a chipmunk. Poor thing has a horribly abscessed tooth. Yet, here she is working without complaint.
She picks up her antibiotics and pain pills today. So, she isn’t even medicated and still had a smile for me. As lop sided as it was.
The difference between people and attitudes astounds me sometimes.
___________________________
Three loads of laundry today. I struggled to the car under the weight of two weeks worth of wash.
I was back in California last weekend.
It’s hard to know it’s going to be a long time before I can return. But, I have my memories. One of which was visiting the Salvador Dali museum in Monterey.
The other, boarding a replica of the San Salvador.
But the best memories of course, were of who I was with – not what I did.
And I’m working on collecting those these days – and I don’t need a reminder.
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.
Debauchery Soup 