One of Those Days.

September 28, 2012

My alarm did not go off this morning, so when I finally woke up, I decided I didn’t have time to go running. In hindsight, this was severely poor decision-making. I really needed those endorphins.

Anyway. Instead of showering (another unfortunate choice I am not sure why I decided to forgo), I put on extra deodorant and drove to a new laundromat (because last week’s tried to bilk me out of my money and I totally fought them about it) that was not yet open because it was too “early.”

So I continued on to the German grocery store to purchase the remainder of the necessary ingredients for my cooking class this afternoon. Naturally, they didn’t have half of what I needed nor had they baked the delicious pretzel bread that was to be my consolation for having driven so far out of the way to get there.

From there, I returned to the laundromat, where it took the attendant ten minutes to acknowledge my presence simply to state in a rude voice that she would not be able to finish my laundry until next Tuesday. Forget that, I needed clean underwear today. I took my clothes and left, and proceeded to drive around my neighborhood, stopping at every place that looked like it might have a washing machine only to dejectedly continue on deterred by absurd prices.

Frustrated, I returned home to regroup and consult with S where else I might be able to replenish my fresh clothes stash before sundown. After a cup of tepid coffee, I ventured back out, first stopping at an internet cafe to print out Mi Esperanza’s October bulletin for eventually copying. I was told it would be a forty minute wait for the next available computer. I randomly drove to another locale but left empty-handed when I discovered it would cost $1USD to print one black and white page. What is this? Monaco?

That unsuccessful endeavor now nullifying my next intended stop at the copy shop, I attempted in my desperation another laundromat that was way out-of-the-way but nonetheless a possibility. After inquiring about prices and sighing in resignation, I lugged the three giant laundry baskets from my car, not neglecting to submerge my flip-flop-exposed foot in a poop puddle while doing so. Ugh.

I dumped the clothes on the counter to be sorted and priced accordingly. Because it was his lucky day and not mine, the owner’s teenage son, who has been staring unabashedly at certain parts of my body this entire time, was given the task of sorting through three girls’ worth of clothes. He took his job seriously, slowly dangling bras in the air and painstakingly examining my roommates’ and my dirty underwear, piece by piece, smirking all the while. I thought that having to stand there and watch was one of the more awkward and uncomfortable moments of my life.

Then he picked up a neon lacy number, held it up to himself, and eagerly asked if it belonged to me (it didn’t). Weird how I happened to get a phone call from Timbuktu at that exact moment…

I am now back home, waiting for noon to officially pass so I can feel the full weight of half a day gone and not much to show for it aside from a significantly emptier gas tank. Well, that and some greasy hair and an embarrassing blog entry.

TGIF.

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2 Responses to “One of Those Days.”


  1. […] I mean, I up and got furious and tried to argue my case and then stormed out bad) overcharged. And subsequent experiences with various other lavanderias proved just as troublesome. Not to mention, […]


  2. […] having to lug my foul-smelling wardrobe to a lavanderia every week. I love not having to deal with laundry leering.  And I love that if I am missing key undergarments, it is because they are still in my laundry […]


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