When I started to
consistently see people wheeling bundles of blankets and clothing on their ways
in and out, it hit me - I was face to face with my new and improved laundromat,
where you can find a loving family of four having Sunday dinner at a lopsided
table as they wait for their clothes to dry; or chance upon a soft-spoken,
furtive dialogue that includes: “Yeah I know, but man, why do you have a naked
picture of your cousin on your phone?”
I wasn’t happy about needing
to do an enormous, long-overdue load of laundry this past weekend, or having to
push my huge cart across busy streets in the sticky 93-degree heat. My mood dramatically
lifted within minutes of my sweaty, pink-faced arrival at the laundromat that
rarely disappoints. Two families with early-elementary-school-age children
surrounded me. One featured two very pretty little girls. The other family’s pair
of boys wildly ran around the premises in their underpants and sleeveless undershirts,
and I was the only one who was absolutely elated by the sight of it all.
I sat down to read Anna
Quindlen’s new book at a table in the back of the room. The two girls and their
mom sat across from me, with some snacks.
The elder underpants boy
really had the hots for the younger girl. I caught him checking her out during
one of his lawless laps around the washing machines. Once the parents cleared
out of the seating area, and it was just us kids, the mack was on. Or the attempted mack, as – surprise! – tighty
whitie has no game.
He bounced over to her, much
of his handsome face hidden behind those oversized geek-chic glasses that are
all the rage with the hipsters, and asked how old she was. (As socially unsophisticated
as it may be, I applaud the idea of establishing the age difference straight
from the get-go. There’s no joy in suddenly learning that you’re 11 years older
than the guy you’re on a third date with.) He followed up with an interrogation about the
snacks.
Underpants: You’re eating
lunch now? [It was sometime between
3:45 and 4:15 p.m.]
Sweet Little Girl: No.
Underpants: So that’s your
dinner?
Sweet Little Girl: No.
Underpants: It’s your supper?
Sweet Little Girl: What’s
supper?
He told her that supper was
a combination of lunch and dessert. That’s when she got noticeably weirded out.
Underpants: Why are you
eating at a time when you’re not supposed to be eating?
Sweet Little Girl: Why
aren’t you wearing clothes?
The parents returned, the
kids clammed up, the underpants boys segued into a good-natured wrestling match
on an elevated platform, and not having laundry facilities in my own building presented
itself as more of a privilege than a problem.
I've read this twice, and am still not sure if you're being sarcastic about enjoying all that. Either way, it's funny!
ReplyDeleteAfter a six-day hiatus from online activity caused by an equipment breakdown at Verizon, I am back online to catch up on two or three Roving Retorter posts. I have missed them!
ReplyDeleteLoved your description of the children at the laundromat. You have a sharp ear for conversation. A playwright in the making? I could just see this little scene as part of a play. Really quite charming.
Do we have a modern day female Norman Rockwell on the works...enjoyed the description and conversation very much. Are you an illustrator? It would have been perfect!
ReplyDelete