an APB and the week-long Laundromat Blues

Missing: One retro-cool fingerless glove
Last seen: on my couch
Accused of: making me ten minutes late for work


I'm not sure, but I think its disappearance has something to do with this grisly scene, which greeted me this morning:

I think it's time to get rid of some of my yarn stash. If anyone's interested in a multicolored assortment of fine natural fibers, let me know!

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A Pox On the Guy at My Laundromat

Every time I drop my laundry off on a Sunday I ask, "can I get this back tomorrow after work?" It's natural, see, because Monday is the day for all the boring, life-management tasks that I don't want to do. Which is why you are most likely to receive an inane text message from me on a Monday: "Yo! I'm in line @ the grocery. Whatcha doin?" or "I just hauled 15 lbs of cat litter home on the subway!" or sometimes just "I miss you dude!"

So, naturally, when dropping off my laundry on a Saturday evening or a Sunday, I expect to pick up the laundry on Monday after work. Inevitably, the guy shakes his head and says, "I don't know...," like it's some big fucking chore to actually provide the service for which the establishment was opened. I mean, I know the weekend is when they get the MOST drop-offs, but seriously! It's not like I'm dropping it off at six o'clock on a Sunday or anything either; I always go in the morning on my way out of the house.

My big problem comes in further down the line on Tuesday evening, when, inevitably, I go out with coworkers (remind me to tell you about Original Data Guy later and how much cooler he is than originally expected) or I have to work late, or I have some other important function to attend. Why? Because it's Tuesday. And Monday is the day when people take care of their boring crap, and since Monday was boring, it follows that Tuesday people will have things to do and ask me to do the things with them. This is just the reality of the hectic social schedule I live in (didn't think you'd ever hear me say that, did you).

So now it's Wednesday. And there I am, frantically looking around for my missing glove--shut up, I love those stupid gloves--and above and beyond not being able to keep my right forearm warm, I also have no dance pants. I have belly dance class on Wednesdays, and it really sucks to carry that big fluffy skirt around to work with me, so on Wednesdays I wear dance pants. Except for the last three weeks in a row, because Jerk-Off down at the laundromat can't possibly get my single load of laundry washed, dried, and folded by Monday at 6 pm. That's 21 hours of open-laundromat time.

And now my Thursday is ruined because I have to go allll the way back to the PLG right after work to make sure I pick up my laundry so that I can have it for the weekend! I certainly hope that there is something good going on in Brooklyn on Thursday, because once I get home I am not going to want to sit around and put all that laundry away. That is just not one of the moments I'm looking to live in!