The New Laundromat Claus(e)

Hey Mom!

I am a frequent user of laundromats. It's a reality I live with, often times it a peaceful experience where I listen to podcasts or do some generalized brooding (it's the fluorescent lights, they are surprisingly good for brooding). 

BUT

(and it is a big but and no, I will not be discontinuing this joke in 2022)

The most recent time I went the laundromat was packed, it was chaos. People were yelling at other people to get their stuff out of the washing machine, the change machine attempted some soothing ambiance by adding a constant, metallic clattering (like rain, but it hurts your teeth and your mind and your heart and your tympanic membranes). So I embraced my natural grace and athleticism by bumping into every single laundry cart in my vicinity and dropping 5 dollars worth of quarters on the floor. 

Now, I think it is important to tell you that I take the efficiency of the laundromat VERY seriously. I set a timer to ensure that I am standing in front of my machine for the last minute of the cycle because I know Glendreich has 14 children and every minute they are not doing laundry they risk being overwhelmed by the ever-growing tower of tee-shirt and cargo shorts that is spilling out of the RV like an open fire hydrant.

So I get to the final boss with 3 minutes left on the dry-cycle I find myself standing shoulder-to-shoulder with laundromathletes (that's right, they can do it all: basic math, telling time and precision clothes folding). My dryer begins creeping to a halt, I stand poised. In the presence of hot clothes, I am cool (thermally, not conventionally). 

And then the dryer stops and I fall apart.

A pair of my underwear is perfectly framed in the circular door. It looks like a curious sea creature has pressed itself against a submarine window. The laundromathletes sense my fear and look at the door, they see a pair of underwear adorned with pictures of Santa Claus twerking. I could explain how I came to possess these (variety pack), I could tell you about my more sensible choices (so many muted tones) but the truth is that none of that matters now. 

You will notice that Santa is also dabbing... or covering his face in shame

Excuse me, I must away to a (different) laundromat to brood.

That is all.