Laundry

I've spent the better part of my day talking to some greasy dude at the laundr-a-mat and to tell you the truth.... I'm considering never washing my clothes again. Not only was this guy raunchy, matted and motley, but he had a great story of random for every instance that I tried to weasle my way out of the conversation. The massively onesided conversation ran the gambit from Breakfast foods to Computers to failed marriages. I only take one thing away from my experience today and it is this "As long as he was chatting at me, he was unable to pester the rest of the patrons" I doubt very seriously that the three college cheerleaders washing their underwear wouldn't have called the police at first contact with this guy. I even received a demur implied headknod/bow thankyou from one of the little ladies. I don't know his name but he loves his '70 Ford Mustang Convertable which apparently wasn't parked next to his '84 faux wooden sided rusted tan wagon in the parking lot. He's 46 and lives in a housing complex that rented to a 21yr old party animal whom conveniently live directly above him. He calls the cops twice a week and they won't do anything for him. His new wife isn't his biggest fan either.

Next week, when the laundry builds up I'm picking a different day to do the wash in hopes of having a peaceful boring watch the spinning clothes time.