This page ©2001
Chip Brown.

Laundro Research

Sometimes I can think of nothing to write about. As odd as it seems sometimes I watch people and nothing happens. Every now and then I go to the store and DON'T embarrass my wife. Last week was one of those slow weeks.

I tried everything I could, to break it up. No matter what I tried, nothing came to me to write about. I realized I do the same things over and over. Every week I go to the same places and do the same things. What I needed was some research, a break in my routine.

I picked up one of my Far Side books, as I often do for guidance in life and the page I turned to had a laundromat on it. It dawned on me I had never been to a laundromat in my life. Surely, if I went to the laundromat something would happen that I could write about.

After assuring my wife I would not take any of her clothes I set off to do my research. Now, I should tell you my wife has nothing against laundromats. She does, however, have something against me doing laundry. It has something to do with a pink underwear fiasco shortly after we were married.

Anyway, back to the story. I arrived at the laundromat and carried in my load of undergarments. I looked around the room and picked up on what I should do first. Apparently, I was to stake claim to a piece of washing machine real estate by placing my basket on top of one.

No sooner had I chosen one when this little old lady came running over and told me to get away from her machine. I would expect such behavior at a casino where people begin to think that a certain slot machine is their "lucky" machine. But surely this old lady couldn't be delusional enough to think this Maytag would pay off on the next load. However, looking at the size of her pocketbook and the mean stare she gave me I moved on to the next machine.

As I began to pile my clothes into the machine I became aware that the natives were watching me. I also became aware that I was holding my underwear in public. I just dumped the whole basket in as quick as I could. Doing laundry should be a private act after all. I hate it when people look in my cart at the grocery store, much less gaze at my undies in a basket.

After I got my laundry loaded I realized I needed some quarters. Fortunately, there was a change machine in the corner. I have no idea why I went to the laundromat without change. I pulled out a twenty and stuck it in the slot. About this time I realized that there was no place to select how many quarters you want.

As my $20 worth of quarters spilled all over the floor I could have sworn I heard that little old lady mumble "rookie," under her breath. I asked the man behind the counter for a bag to put my 50 pounds of quarters in. I don't think he spoke English so I began to stuff quarters in my pockets.

Finally, I had my $1.50 in the machine and it was spinning. What do you do now? I looked around and saw everyone staring at their perspective washers like it was a TV and the Miss America pageant was on. As much as I like to watch machinery, this wasn't for me.

I walked around the laundromat and began to see what all it had to offer. There was this machine on the wall that sold these little boxes of detergent. Luckily I had brought my own, as I don't think $5 is a good price for a handful of Tide flakes. Oddly, there were many people buying them. At these prices, my fifty load box of Tide would be worth more than an equal volume of cocaine. An idea!

I loaded my jacket pockets with Tide and stood there beside the machine. I tried to keep my voice low so that the proprietor of the establishment wouldn't know what I was up to. Unfortunately, the noise of the machines didn't allow my "wanna buy some detergent cheap?" to carry very well. I made a sign!

I taped the sign inside my jacket so that the proprietor wouldn't notice. As old ladies walked up I would open my jacket to reveal the sign that read, Handful of Tide $2.50. Hardly anyone took notice of me, I just wasn't getting their attention. I came upon the idea of jumping out at people and throwing my jacket open to reveal my sign.

However, the momentum of jumping, coupled with the weight of all those quarters caused my pants to slide down. There I stood in front of the laundromat flashing some old lady at the detergent machine with my pants down.

Women screamed and women pointed. Yes, I had accomplished my goal, I had indeed gotten their attention. I retrieved my pants and went and had a seat. I never could sell things. I don't know which bothered me worse, the fact my pants had fallen down or that nobody seemed to care after the fact.

I sat there with my machine and watched everyone around me. The two ladies talking about their bunions. The guy about my age that was keeping count of how many times his machine turned. I realized these people weren't much different than me.

Not even the strange lady that walked up to me and informed me not to use dryer 6 that someone had done their cat pee laundry in it. Good advice which I thanked her for.

But I sat there through the rest of my wash and the drying in the non-cat pee dryer and thought about how much I have in common with all these people. Except for the fact I have a washer and dryer in my home, I don't have bunions and I think $5 is too much to pay for a handful of detergent.

Oh well, it was a pretty good day but I didn't see a thing to write about.

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