Blood in the Laundromat

It's not as if I love doing laundry in the first place. Sure, I love the result. Fresh, clean, mountain rain scented clothes. But I wouldn't go as far as saying that doing laundry puts me in a good mood. Rather quite the opposite. I have to lug the clothes down four flights of stairs, go to around the corner to perhaps one of the most annoying atmospheres ever. You see, in this laundromat the owner has a voice that would leave any dog shivering and peeing in the corner. She chatters incessantly to her co-workers in this high pitch, high volume manner. Perhaps it's because she's trying to talk above the Mexican-Techno music they're are always playing there, which in my opinion is the modern day equivilant of Death Metal.

Anyway... I'm rambling. Last week, I went to do the laundry early to avoid the throng of raging queens that usually shows up sometime around noon. Unfortunately I was not as lucky as I have been in the past. Apparently, the queens and he/shes get up earlier during the winter months. Did I mention it was sheet day? It's always fun folding sheets solo especially when there's three sets you're doing. Well, to make a long folding short, after about 40 minutes I finally got everything folded, all the shirts, pants, fitted (pain in the butt) sheets... Everything!

Along comes the Queen of all queens. Briskley and brusquely shoving past everyone in the now crowded laundromat, hand on hip and swinging his laundry bag the way Paris Hilton swings her Prada. Well he connected his bag with my stacks of laundry knocking almost everything to the ground. He then grabs the crumpled mess, which was so recently my beautiful folded laundry, tosses it up on the table and says "Oooooh! Sooooorry." and proceeded to leave with his Hiltonesque swagger.

It took every once of restraint that I have not to make him a blood stain outside of the laundromat. As Nipsy said - "I wonder if he know's how lucky he is..."

Today was laundry day again. No such comfrontations were encountered. The only potential for blood was from my ears. The owner (remember her? Dog whistle voice?) had her mother there today. Granted, I'm only assuming she was her mother as her voice was even more screechy than the younger lady. I was centered between the two as I was folding. They were arguing or joking or something but it felt like I was in between two chalkboards being fingernail scratched in Asian. At one point they simultaneuosly squeeled "EEeeeeeeeeeeee!" and I felt as if my head was going to explode like in the Cronenberg classic - Scanners.

Today, I was lucky to leave the laundromat with my life.