::Serendipity::

Lessons Learned at the Laundromat ________________________________________________________________

I’m totally losing patience with the slowness of D-land. And the double posts. And everyone leaving! I have a blog at Blogger, and Live Journal and even Wordpress. Everyone has their favorites and I’m trying to decide which I like best, but I’m kind of leaning toward Blogger since I already have my Book Blog there. I hate to leave here because I’ve got it all (mostly) figured out. I hate learning how to do things all over again. I don’t have the patience for that either. So we’ll see which ends up bothering me the most.

So all it took yesterday was a trip to The Mat for some much needed perspective and break.

After getting stuck in the house (apparently the house shifted or something in the five minutes since someone last used the door) and it was stuck. Tight. Maggie, Tim and Emily pushed from the outside and I pulled from the inside. It wouldn’t budge. I had visions of everyone using the bedroom window for a front door like little cat burglers.

I called Michael who couldn’t hear me well on his cell and got upset because I was yelling at him. I was only trying to make myself heard on his bad connection. Okay, I might have been yelling a little. Sorry honey. He was sure I had just forgotten to unlock the deadbolt or something like that. Like I’m an idiot! Okay. He wasn’t so out of line there either because I have been known to do things like that before. He suggested Riley go out the back door with a hammer and bang on the door. The same hammer the kids left in the woods a few weeks ago when they were building a fort. Shhh. We won’t tell Daddy that part.

Then Riley and I went to the back door, which has boxes of Michael’s crap- excuse me I meant to say valuable stuff- stacked in front of. Thinking of all the reasons why it’s so unsafe not to have a second exit clear made me very cranky. Uh, crankier. After moving all the stupid crap- I mean valuable stuff, that door was also stuck. But thank the good Lord for my ample hips because a half dozen well placed hip bumps later and it opened right up! Then the screen door was stuck. Okay, by this time, I’d had it. I banged on the top corner with all my strength no longer giving a rat’s butt if I broke it. At last, it opened.

Riley hammered on the front door, and I pulled and squeak! It came open. Where I find the two neighbor girls digging a hole in the front yard to plant radish seeds. Oh. My. Crap. It’s not like I have a nice lawn, or even a crappy lawn for that matter. But it’s my front yard! Sakes!

So I get my basket of laundry and boogy to The Mat because I was getting to the point where no amount of Calgon was going to help.

The lady at The Mat was very sweet and showed me where the hottest drier was. Then a couple enters. The guy is whistling through his teeth like my Dad would. I’m normally pretty easy going, but some sounds are like an ice pick to my brain. Especially since I still have fluid in my ears from the stupid ear infection. I’m ready to turn on a serious turn you to a pillar of salt glare when they leave. Ah. Bliss.

I have a Snapple White Tea (my first time trying one and it was a light and refreshing treat) and a semi-trashy mystery novel and only the soothing sound of running water from the washers. This wouldn’t be too bad at all! Then in walks a few reasons for me to be thankful for my whiney son and daughter who doesn’t always listen and other daughter prone to dramatics. Riley is nearly perfect and not included in this scenario.

Two 20-something ladies com in with 2 boys and many many loads of laundry. Immediately the boys (6-7ish and 4-5ish) take turns climbing in and out of the dryers. Mom yells at them. Very loudly. They get out. She turns her back. They climb back in again. Mom yells again. The older once then boosts the younger one in one of the top row dryers. She sees them, but looks away, ignoring them rather then yell again. Eventually they get down on their own. Next they climb in those big baskets with the wheels and push each other up and down the aisles at high speed crashing into stuff.

I wasn’t sure which was Mom and which was aunt or friend. Must have been the taller one because she was all “NO!” and “beat it boy”. Aunt or friend tried to play with them and seemed more fun. Probably because she didn’t have to deal with them all day. She picked one up and lets him bang his head on the vending machine. Then they climb up on the tables for folding and run up and down on them.

Now Mr. Whistle returns with his kids. The boy walks in with Cheez Whiz or some sort of cheese food product all over his hands and he walks up to everyone and wiggles his cheesy fingers in our faces apparently not understanding how strangers appreciate personal space. My book had a cheese food stain on it from the wiggling. I used it as a shield.

The aunt or friend tries to entertain the boys whom I’ve dubbed Darrell and his other brother Darrell. She holds one down and Darrell laughs and says, “Let me down you ugly Ho”. More horsing around and more head banging on the candy and soda machines and Darrell announces, “I’m going to spit on you if you don’t get me a soda”. Nice. She responds, “I guess you’ll have to mop it up then.” Guess what happened next? Pteuy. Nice again. I don’t think they got a mop as promised.

I couldn’t wait to get my happy butt home and remember to be a lot more grateful, but never and I mean ever let my children turn into monsters. I’m sure Darrell and his other brother Darrell just needed a nap. Or a snack, or a time out. Whatever. I don’t want to judge, but I don’t want my children to behave that way. Ever. Every day I think keeping them away from the nasty influence of other rude kids wouldn’t be sheltering them at all, but saving them! Cripes!

posted by Terri at 5/24/2007 12:18:00 PM >0 comments

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