Skip to main content

Strangers In The Spin Cycle

When Habibi and I were first dating, I mentioned to him that I was not interested in ever owning a home.  A mortgage and a toaster simply weren't for me.

Fast forward a couple of years and nothing has really changed.  Although we do, in fact, own a toaster (because what red-blooded American doesn't like toast?), neither of us is really all that interested in home ownership.  Despite all of this, there is one aspect of being a home owning American that appeals to me:  a washing machine.

Since our marriage two years ago, we have lived in two different apartments, both of which have coin operated laundry facilities in the building, but no option of installation of a W/D in the individual units.  For those of you who have experienced this sort of living situation, it isn't particularly dream worthy.  (First World Problem, anyone?)  Walking up and down flights of stairs every 30 minutes, hauling a heaping basket of clothes and praying that you have sufficient quarters (and that you don't biff it on the staircase) is far less desirable than just being able to toss something in the wash when you need it.  Finding dead, mangled silverfish in your freshly "washed" shirt isn't very reassuring.  A flooded basement that prohibits entrance to the laundry room makes for a week of digging through the dirty clothes.  As a working adult, I resent the patronizing screech of the ancient dryer in my apartment basement.  I am a grown-up, for crying out loud!  I should not be having PTSD-esque flashbacks of college when I was so poor I could afford to use only the washer or the dryer, and was forced to hang clothes around my room.  (You should see our apartment now...we literally have clothes drying in every room.)  What of the nightmares of my living situation in France where my sink was my washer?  Needless to say, I want W/D capabilities in our next home.

However, loading up the car and hauling everything to the local laundromat is certainly not without a certain charm.  For instance, the place where Habibi and I do our laundry on occasion is just up the street and is always filled with all sorts of characters!  I mean no disrespect when I say this, but there is a certain demographic that congregates at laundromats in my part of the country.  Who would not melt after seeing the fluffy little puppy come in (despite the "no animals allowed" sign) with her blingy mom and mustachioed dad?  How is watching some slightly creepy, tattooed guy lift up his girlfriend's son by the feet and try to stuff him headfirst into a washing machine not entertaining?  (The kid was giggling, by the way.)  In fact, tonight's experience holds a demented appeal all of its own....

Enter a middle aged man in a cutoff t-shirt, enraged about something and swearing profusely into his phone.  Surely, there must be some sort of domestic dispute between him and an ex of some sort.  Trying to ignore him simply won't work, as we are the only other people in the laundromat, but somehow, we manage.  As he violently hangs up, mutters a name for a disagreeable female and stomps outside, Habibi and I exchange glances.  Weirded out!!!!!!!  Poor person on the other end of the phone.  Poor crazy, yelling guy.  Something must be up.

A calm but slightly nervous man enters the laundromat.  We look up and see that it is the same character who had, just a moment ago, been irate with someone over something that seemed rather serious.  He startles us a bit by apologizing that we had to hear him yelling on the phone but "it's all for her."  We both look down as he holds out the most precious, fuzzy, brown bunny.  Good move, strange man!  Who can be mad or offended when one of nature's most adorable creatures is present???  "My mom is so selfish," he says.  He goes on to tell us a little more about his living situation, his family dysfunction (Boy I guess so, if you drop the f-bomb on your mom and use similar language to address her!) but that "Cocoa Puff is worth it."

I am sad for this man, for his mom and for whatever their situation entails, but that is the cutest damn animal I have ever seen.  Cocoa Puff.

OK, so maybe I won't balk so much next time we have to drag ourselves to the laundromat, but I still want our own washing machine.  Cocoa Puff is welcome to come over any time.

Comments

  1. Awwwww, Cocoa Puff, that's precious. I was thisclose to getting Mandarin or Jambalaya last weekend and hiding him/her in my apartment, but I didn't think I could pull it off -- but the Humane Society apparently had lots of other soft-hearted people come out, as they went from an overcapacity 200+ cats to only 30 left for adoption, thanks to lots of other families. Yay pet lovers, even if they drop F-bombs on their moms!

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Comment if you wish. Or don't.

Popular posts from this blog

Let's be frank...

Habibi and I are not at all fanciful.  In fact, every time I try to do something cute (and/or Pinterest-y), I end up frustrated and with egg on my face.  So, we've just decided to embrace our straightforward, blunt way of doing things.  To give you an idea of how we roll, let me tell you a little bit about our life journey together... On our second date, I told Habibi that I really wasn't interested in ever getting married.  Sure I like liked  him ("like liking" would soon change to love), but it just wasn't something I planned for my future.  Seven months later when he proposed (see how that went for me?), I simply said yes.  There was no video, no fireworks, no wild story, no pictures.  He told me to close my eyes (I insisted on sitting on the floor if I had to close my eyes because I was afraid he'd push me on the ground) and when I opened them, there he was, on one knee, holding a ring.  Afterwards, we kissed and he told me I had co...

I Am So A Hipster: The Hipster's Way of Letting You Know That He/She Is Not, In Fact, A Hipster

I just got home from having a great coffee date with a great friend. For those of you who know me personally, you will recall that I am somewhat awkward socially.  A few weeks back, my friend and I decided we wanted to meet for coffee at a local chocolaterie .  (We both lived/studied in France and anything with a European flair makes us nostalgic.)  Now, this may be news to her if she is reading this post, but my first awkward moment was when she walked in the door.   Do I get up and give her a hug since I haven't seen her in nearly two years?   (A normally functioning person would have done so.)   Do I give her a high five?   ( Not  what higher thinkers typically do.)   What????   (Yes, these are the things that plague my brilliant mind.)  Fortunately, she was graceful enough to have seemingly overlooked my stiff greeting and we were able to begin reminiscing. After a wonderful and uplifting chat about France, running, gossipin...

The Joys of Fall and Eating Dinner

When I was just a little tike, I learned a song about Halloween.  The lyrics went something like this: Jack-O-Lantern, Jack-O-Lantern, You are such a pretty sight, As you sit there in the window, Looking out on the night! You were once a yellow pumpkin, Growing on a sturdy vine. Now you are a Jack-O-Lantern, See the candlelight shine! I know it isn't exactly Hemingway (thank goodness), but poor Habibi found me singing it to myself in the bathroom this morning as I was getting ready for the day.  (Oh, shut up.)  For your enjoyment (obviously) I've included the inspiration for my morning concert below: WE GOT TO CARVE OUR PUMPKIN LAST NIGHT!!!!!!!!!!! I love Halloween.  Every year around this time I start to get the jitters as though something terribly exciting and adventurous is about to happen.  I love the crunch of fall leaves, crispy mornings, eerie evenings and smoky nights.  Spooky stories, haunted houses, the s...