While waiting for my funny bone to kick in (Hoo-boy, do I have a whopper of a Road Trip to relate!), I thought I would share tiny humorous moments.
Make Yourself at Home:
It’s a Sunday morning. Shaun is still at her mom and dad’s, the kids are gone, and all is quiet and peaceful. Great time to grocery shop. No one will be in the store. I run my errands, haul in the groceries while rifling my internal dinner Rolodex, looking for the recipe that won’t leave me on the receiving end of: “Let me guess. Chicken and salad.”
Beautiful day. Maybe I’ll go give my personal trainer a bath. It’s 70 degrees.
I unpack the chicken, lettuce, and um, salad dressing. Didn’t I throw a pork chop in there? Some broccoli? Maybe they have a point. Aha! I tossed Doritos in at the last second. I’m saved. I’ll make my famous “Dorito encrusted blackened chicken”. (Just as soon as I invent it.)
My cell bings. It’s Daisy. What’s she doing at 9:30 on a Sunday morning?
Daisy: There’s a guy in the laundromat who brought his coffee machine to make a pot of coffee?
Daisy: YES. Plugged into the wall on the folding table. Cappuccino?
Jane: BRB. Getting mug. Won’t have to stop at Starbucks.
Daisy: um. he’s weird. Said, “shouldn’t u be at church?”
Uh-oh. There’s wacky: bringing espresso/coffee machine to laundromat, and there’s unstable wacky: verbally accosting a complete stranger in the laundromat with “shouldn’t you be at church?”
Jane: I’m coming. Have to see. Bring two mugs? Rosary?
(Translation: why are you coming?)
Jane: how often do you get to see a guy lug a 50 lb espresso maker into the laundromat?
Daisy: ????? He’s nearly done?
Jane: Blog. It’s my civic duty to report on coffee making in laundromats.
I stuff Christmas in the car before Daisy can text me back. I forget the mugs. Dang. Oh well. Daisy will be relieved. I really would go ask for coffee. I mean, how often do you get a chance like this?
I pull up and Daisy jumps out of her car: “you didn’t bring mugs, right?”
“I forgot in the rush to get here”, I say. It’s amazing to get to see the second in which someone stops sweating. Wow. Didn’t know it could happen that fast.
“Shall we?”, says Daisy.
She pulls open the laundromat door, saying conversationally, if a bit loudly, “YEAH, SURE NO PROBLEM…JUST LET ME CHECK ON MY LAUNDRY.”
I look at the empty folding table.
“Shit. he moved it”, Daisy whispers.
That’s okay. I’m good with touring laundromats. Daisy sees my intention and yanks me back, hissing “Hellloooo…shouldn’t you be in church?“
Oh. Right. Whack job. Why isn’t HE in church? But I’m HERE. I gotta see.
“I THINK I LEFT MY SOCKS IN THE BACK DRYER LAST NIGHT…I’M JUST GOING TO SEE IF ANYTHING IS STILL IN THERE”, I say, “I’LL BE RIGHT BACK TO HELP YOU FOLD.”
Daisy is throwing knives at me.
I stroll to the back dryer, head swiveling as if I were in a dryer museum, looking at a range of models. My back is starting to hurt from the knife throwing power of Daisy’s eyes.
Half way there, I see it partially hidden behind a giant washtub. It’s HUGE. I wonder if I can snap a picture on my cell phone without him noticing. Ew. He is a little creepy. Dressed all in black, mean looking.
Next thing I know Daisy is right next to me. “YOU LEFT YOUR SOCKS IN WITH MINE, AND OUR CLOTHES AREN’T DRY YET, LET’S GO OUTSIDE, I HAVE THAT THING IN MY CAR FOR YOU.”
Thing? I like things. I go happily. (I am way too much like my dog.)
I stand next to Daisy’s car like she really does have a thing in the car for me.
Daisy: What? There’s not really a thing! Geeze, are you trying to get us murdered?
Jane: What’s he going to do, pelt us to death with socks?
Daisy: I have to come here again, I’d rather not participate in The Laundromat Murders.
I hate it when she’s right. I’ll be so glad when she moves into her new house.