Good writing, with a strong point and with life oozing out.

Heard at the Laundromat

April 7, 2009

This week, the visit to the laundromat featured something unprecedented: a special guest. The sometimes elusive Mojo and I have been trying to connect to pass off some books, and my wife made the kind suggestion that we meet at a fine establishment several doors down from the laundromat, and so we did. The interlude of a libation was a welcome one, and the kind folks at Dogfish Head were most hospitable, and the conversation was stimulating, such that the intended quick escape during the wash cycle was considerably extended. But apparently Mojo is a glutton for pushishment, since he not only drove me back to the laundry venue, but followed me in to continue our conversation. Which I carried on more-less-unphased, speed-walking from washer to dryer to washer to dryer to change machine, to dryer, to folding table, to dryer, etc. etc., ad infinitum, as per laundry SOP. Which earned me a stunned look and exclamation from Mr. Mojo, and the assertion that I was ‘manic, dude!’. What can I say? I’m in a three-year old, once-per-week rut with this routine, and I need to hustle if I want to get back home inside three hours. So he watched my whirling dervish for about an hour before excusing himself to reset himself for his day job. But the Laundromat Special Guest was a certain and unquestioned success, and so I shall hereby offer an open invitation for similar companionship in the future. One can bring one’s own laundry, for that matter, though one should be warned that headphones will be donned at some point in the evening. This is the laundromat, after all, and the monster must be fed.

My monster settled for a snack tonight: a single helping of MacBreak Weekly (I’m only a week behind now), and a half portion of m212. The latter of which is some monsterous rock, which pulled me through the final, tedious folding of miniature socks and clothing with dispatch and style and mucho distortion and wailing. When it’s 1:30 in the morning, there’s just nothing like good, old-fashioned rock [he said, raising devil horns high over the iMac].

Posted in:

One Response to “Heard at the Laundromat”

  1. Ken Tennyson says:

    You did not just use SOP, LOL!!

Leave a Reply