Monday, July 7, 2008

Tales from the Spin Cycle

Sunday is typically my day to do laundry. I get up pretty early, make coffee, check emails, visit a couple favorite blogs. Then, I load up the car and head out to the laundromat with hopes of getting there before anyone else does. I like the solitude of me and nothing but the the hum of the washers and dryers. My only companion is my trusty iPod Nano. Once in awhile the owner or his in-laws will be there to clean up the joint, collect money from the machines, etc...

I've explained in a previous post that I rent a house that isn't equipped with a washer and dryer. I could buy a used set, but the water pressure here is so pathetic that it's a challenge to rinse shampoo and conditioner from my hair daily.

Don't leave me yet. I promise this will get better. The good stuff is coming. Just be patient and let me set the scene. It's crucial!

Sunday, July 6, 2008 my routine went askew. I woke up later than usual: 7:00 a.m. Instead of making coffee and bothering with my computer routine I made immediate tracks for the door. That means I rolled out of bed, put on clean undies, a bra, yanked a tank style, ribbed knit jersey sundress off the hanger and threw it on. I might have run a brush over my hair. I can't recall. My eyes were barely open. I put the locks up in a scrunchied pony tail, brushed my teeth and slipped on flip flops. Out I went.

With the car loaded, I opted to stop by the Shell station for coffee. That slowed me down a few minutes. I knew if I didn't get to the 'mat before 8:00 a.m. all would be lost and I'd end up waiting to get my wash started. I got there by 7:30 a.m. Hot dog!! Only 2 cars in the lot. Unloading the car and staking my claim on washers required speed and diligence. Clearly, others were privy to the perfect time to launder their dirties. Blast!

I hit the trunk release button and hopped from the car. While I was doing this I heard someone approaching and turned -- a normal reaction. A man who had clearly been running nodded to me as he went in the laundromat. My first thought was he needed to make a pit-stop potty break while out on his morning run. I thought wrong. He was doing his laundry and obviously took advantage of the 26 minutes it takes for the washer to complete a cycle. He managed to get a cardio work-out while his whites washed, rinsed and spun.

I placed my baskets in front of the washers I intended to use. I needed quarters (so annoying). The change machine is located next to the dryers. Dryers that Running Man was loading. As I'm jamming a wrinkled $10. bill into the machine over and over he asked me something. I didn't understand him so I said, "pardon?" He inquired again. Once more I didn't grasp what he said. Feeling deaf and foolish, I replied, "I still didn't understand." He enunciated, "Did your maid quit, too?" I chuckled and said, "yeah, she said something about running off to Vegas."

I absolutely must add that this sort of thing doesn't happen to me. Men do not approach me for no apparent reason. I am not making that up to appear humble or pathetic. It just doesn't happen. I shrugged his comment as just being polite and went about collecting my quarters from the machine's trap and moved along assuming that was the end of communication.

While I loaded my washers Running Man left the 'mat. He went out to his car and sat. I can't blame him. It's bloody boring watching your clothing tumble about. I went about my business and did so with my iPod earbuds shoved in my ears ... shutting out the goings on of the spin cycle.

Once the detergent and softener are added I take the products out to the car. I always do this. I think one too many people without such products have asked if they can borrow some. This time I was hesitant because Running Man was parked next to me. I didn't want it to look as if I was trying to get his attention. But with the iPod attached to my head it pretty much declared that I was in my own little world.

With the slam of the trunk lid, he popped from his car and appeared to be speaking to me. He motioned to his ears as if to ask me to remove the 'buds from my ears. I giggled a little while taking them out. He asked if I was from around this area, he asked about the year of my car (we both have Saturns -- mine is newer). A conversation ensued until ...

He told me I was like dynamite or looked like dynamite. Either way I could feel my face and ears set aflame with embarrassment. There I was having just rolled out of bed without make up or a shower and this man is telling me I'm attractive ... or comparing me to an explosive. With that compliment I retreated by saying, "Now that I'm thoroughly flattered; yet, embarrassed, I notice my washers have stopped." He quickly apologized for making me blush but reiterated that he thought I looked great.

I went inside and he followed me (making me fully aware of the jiggle my arse makes when I walk. Especially in such a dress). His clothes had completed their dry cycle as I emptied my washers. Yada yada... quarters in, dry clothes out. Fold. Fold. Smiles exchanged.
I couldn't help but notice his fantastic bi-ceps and the athletic pants he wears show off an adoration worthy tushy. His shoulders are broad and he's quite tall. His clean shaven head reveals scars acquired from a car accident when he was a teen. He wears glasses. His teeth are nice, but not overly straight or bleached. No noticeable tattoos. And no, no ring or tan line left by a ring on his left hand. His white t-shirt is beaming white. This tells me he's an avid bleach user or the shirt is brand new. Either way, it's not stained or thread bare. Despite watching him with my peripheral vision, I cannot see the type of underwear he's folding. At this point you're free to color me a pervert. I have been referring to him elsewhere as Cute Tushy. I felt that painted me as a superficial chick. So, I've opted for Running Man to be his moniker until I'm willing to divulge his name or initials ... or a more appropriate nickname.

We continue to exchange short glances accompanied with smirks or knowing smiles. That is until ...

Two women with three children (one on Wheelies and two in pajamas) joined the laundry patrons. One woman is LOUD. She's shouting across the room as if she is a Waffle House waitress yelling to the short-order cook behind the grill. Quickly this becomes annoying. I'm not alone as Running Man and I simultaneously look to one another with shocked and irritated bug-eyes. The din is more than I can bear; I grab my purse. As I walk toward the door to make an exit, I notice Running Man's car lights are on. I lean in to him as I pass and whisper, "Your lights are on." Quickly he turned. With him walking behind me I realized my ill fitting undies have attempted to become one with my posterior division. I pray he's not eyeing my bodunkadunk. Such a thing would surely make an obvious indentation in my overly fluffarific derriere.

I got in my car, rolled down the window and sat with the door open. My legs were turned out so I could still face him as he stood by his car (once again). We talked about a plethora of things and he walked to my door pulling a card from his wallet. Handing it to me he said, "If you're interested; call me." I'm a dork and just smiled with a reply of, "I'll do that."

He returned to his car and sat inside. I'm not sure if the closeness seemed to invasive or what. It meant me having to look up at him. Perhaps because he had been out running he feared he was quite odoriferous. From the driver's side, he leaned over saying he could actually hear me better because the loud woman had come outside and was talking, naturally, very loudly on her cell phone. She went back inside, but returned shortly. This time, she stepped off the curb between our cars and began closing my car door. She bent to talk to Running Man asking if he had a cell phone she could use, "let me tell you 'bout my 'mergency." I was baffled as she had just been talking on a cell phone. Her children came out and flocked around me like I was giving away Skittles and Kool-Aid. Cordially I asked how old they were, etc... Meanwhile, Loud Lady explained her dire 'mergency to Running Man. I was beside myself and rightly befuddled. Going back inside I turned to mouth an apology.

In a matter of minutes, Running Man, Loud Lady and her children followed suit. I was unloading my dryers and beginning to fold as the women turned to him for guidance, sympathy, a hand out. I don't know. He folded his clothing he listened to their tales of woe. I'll admit that his tact and concern was impressive ... more impressive than his white whites.

His laundry tasks were completed. His baskets packed and ready to go. Before departing he told the more calm, less obtrusive woman that he'd be in touch with numbers and names of agencies who might help both of them. There I stood feeling slightly robbed. Selfish, I know, but keep in mind this occurrence was an anomaly. I reminded myself that I had his phone number. The proverbial ball was in my court. His departure without further conversation didn't mean an absolute end.

He realized after putting his laundry in his car that he didn't have his keys. Standing at the entrance he asked if I knew where they were. NO! I did not. I didn't take them to prevent us from parting ways prematurely. I'm goofy, but not insane. I suggested he look on the passenger's side. He did, but found them under the driver's side seat. Joyfully he paused long enough for me break away from my laundry duty and meet him at the door. Preferring not to have an audience of women in distress and their offspring, I met him outside. Small talk; awkward shuffling about. "I really need to get showered to make it to church. You have my number. I don't know what there is to do around here, but call me."

I'm not an overly aggressive woman. I'm an insatiable flirt when I'm terrifically comfortable with the receiver of such endorsements. However, put me in the unknown and I'm a babbling idiot with two tongues. Neither of which is capable of forming a cohesive sentence. It's more likely that my brain is in overdrive with fears I'll say too much of the wrong thing.

I consulted a league of virtual friends for advice. All insisted I act impulsively and call. Don't play the waiting game. Take a leap of faith.

Take a leap of faith ... and so I did

... to be continued


  1. How exciting! It's like a Rupe tale ~ complete with a cliffhanger and leaving me (us) wanting more.

  2. Good call by your friends, Nothing I hate worse than the waiting game, it's soooo unnecessary.

    By the way, I won't color you pervert at all, you were making the most of the situation and doing your homework scouting the guy, that's just a smart thing to do. I hope all goes well.

  3. Yay! LOVE stories like this!


    I hate teaser endings...

    You better be calling in sick to work and writing the rest of this... ;)

  4. I'm all about the teasers! I hate them, myself, but love incorporating them into my writing.

    Wait no more, my friend. The latest is ready for reading.

    More tomorrow!

    Complaint, thanks for making me feel better about checking out Running Man's goods. I guess I'd be a liar to say I didn't notice his form.

  5. Hey Wildhair, in addition to your writing, I love the images you choose to illustrate them with. They always add something, the perfect touch.


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