We pull up to a random laundromat, somewhere in central Florida. As I set my overflowing bags of laundry in front of two of the large 3 load washers, I realize that I have left the stain spray. This week's laundry is full of the unsightly results of more than a few food mishaps. I want to avoid a permanent be-speckling that might occur if the stains are not released in the wash. I am diligent about such things.
The van is parked directly in front of the laundromat. I grab the stain spray, and return, realizing that my clothes have been pushed aside.
A man and woman are loading clothes into all four large washers in a quick fast hurry. I throw my hands up in the air and say, “guess I will NOT be using those washers after all.” Ms. Snide and Justified whips her head around and throws her own hands up with a snotty glare, eyebrows touching her hairline. With a toss of her ponytail she says, “guess not”, and continues to load.
I am in no mood to roll around on this filthy pressed-tile floor with some bat-faced bottom dweller and her backup mistah. I proceed to the row of medium sized washers and divide our stuff evenly between three of them as Smack-Talking Sally and her henchman jump into their pickup truck and zip out of the parking lot. “What-to-the-ev-errrrr,” I grumble. Nothing shall stand between me and clean sheets tonight. THAT is a promise.
Standing on tiptoe I reach the bottom of the mountainous top loading machines and dig out two loads somehow without falling in. The third is sopping wet.
With no way to re-spin, I load the dripping clothes into a second basket and head for the dryers, warning those around me to avoid the puddles.
Into 3 separate dryers they go, slapping wetly as they spin, causing waves of water to splatter the round glass doors. A sign above each rusty-drummed dryer admonishes one to not waste a second quarter if the dryer doesn't heat up after inserting the first one. How about a “machine is broken” sign instead?
The couple pulls up. Dan is seated nearby, waiting to help with the fold. He knows how aggravated I am, so maybe he is keeping one eye on me, too.
The henchman comes barreling in like he owns the place. He opens and empties the cashboxes of washers while his partner loads their wet clothes into baskets and heads for the dryers. I guess they own the place.
I consider confronting him, or posting an awful Google review, but I am tired. I just want to get this done, get a few groceries on board and head back to camp.
Chick overloads several dryers, thrusting at least two bucks of silver into to each slot. I assume she knows good and well which dryers work. Her clothes start to spin, then they peel out of the parking lot once again.
I go back to my obsession with stopping the dryers long enough to pull out the dry garments, then restarting them so we could get this mess done.
As I fold, I survey the tattered hems of the shorts, the faded lack of glory of our treasured old t’s, and the downright shameful condition of our underclothing. I just spent twenty bucks in quarters to wash a pile of rags. Same as it ever was, but the clean and folded pile is slowly growing. Yay team Cordray!
I glance over at Dan, who is plinking away on his phone. I signal the high sign for “pile of your clothes ready to be folded”, and he heads my way.
On his way over I see him walk close to the couple’s three overloaded spinning dryers. As he passes, he gives me a sinister bwaaa haaa haaa grin. When he reaches me, he is singing “Dirty Deeds, Done Dirt Cheap” as he winks and motions over his shoulder.
He has opened one of the dryers on his way by, causing it to come to a full stop. In the same motion, he carefully closed it, knowing that it wouldn't start back up again unless you press the start button. The other two dryers continued to spin as I howl at his prank. “One shall not dis my wife,” he says, “or there shall be Hades to pay.” Or at least an extended time at the laundromat.
We really do walk through the world with the intention of doing no harm, but I guess we had both reached our limit that day.
The worst part for the them was a little bit of inconvenience, and maybe a lesson in consideration, or maybe not. Who knows? We didn't stick around to find out. The best part for me was knowing that Dan always has my back, and is fully prepared to monkey around to prove it.
Blessings and fresh pantaloons to ya,
Brenda Cordray
The Desert Rose
Ha ha Instant Karma!
Dan is much better behaved than Will Smith in protecting his wife. also more devious. Bravo.