Since all of my underwear was nearly stolen a few months ago, I've taken to waiting in the laundromat while my clothes spin around. Today was clothes AND bedding day, which is really just too much. Carrying a large bag of laundry, an oversized jug of detergent, and my huge comforter creates all sorts of Three Stooges moments trying to fit through doors. Only, it's just me--a single stooge.
After moving everything from the washers to the dryers, I had some time to kill. I had nothing to read and was too lazy to walk back to my apartment, so I thought I'd take the time to settle. My parents are coming out here this weekend so I figured it would be appropriate to center myself before their arrival. And the pleasant smell of color-safe spring coupled with the rhythmic spin of my sheets created a nice little environment to clear my mind.
There's a large mural of a jungle scene in my neighborhood laundromat. I'm confused as to why. I guess it would make sense if the name of the place was called, "Wild Wash" or "Amazon Rinse and Fold," but it's called Doug's Suds. I like to think Doug's son is an artist who paints jungle murals exclusively. He had a tough time finding work (jungle murals are so rarely needed these days--outsourcing) so when Doug opened up the business his son was like, "Hey dad, I have an idea for a mural for the laundromat."
I thought about Doug and his fictional son for about 5 minutes before trying to achieve inner peace.
I have to say, a jungle scene doesn't do much to settle the nerves. Raffi once hung a picture of a snake above our TV for about 5 minutes before I asked him to take it down. I couldn't sit and veg without thinking a giant cobra was on me. So while the mural is really not that convincing (i think there's a sea otter in it) I found it hard to relax while staring at it. So I closed my eyes for about 20 minutes until I heard the dryers buzz and I went to check on my stuff. Everything was still wet. I dumped a few more quarters in and went home. In my heightened state of awareness I figured, if someone really wanted my wet comforter, they could have it. Plus, the jungle scene was really tripping me out.
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2 comments:
Somebody…stole…your underwear? You can only imagine my relief when I read on and discovered it was not while you were actually wearing the stuff.
I don’t want to dwell too much about the sort of society that creates the circumstance where somebody can think ‘oh, she means the phantom knicker snatcher of old SF swiped the scanties from the washateria – phew, that’s okay then’.
Don’t want to morbid but, what do you think happened to them? I mean, do you think they ended up in some nethergarment chop-shop, resprayed and sold on?
The undergarment thieving was only attempted. Thanks to my quick crime-solving mind, fine reasoning skills, and a container full of quarters, I was able to talk the perp away from the scene of the crime--a dryer--without incident. The container full of quarters is key. Most bad guys are deterred by the sound of clinking coins. It's an unknown, but possibly true fact. "Really? You want to steal that car? Well, we'll see what this $3 in loose change has to say about that."
That's why whenever I need to break a dollar, I approach an officer of the law.
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