Today makes the third day off work. Seriously, I need to find a way to make money doing this; screwing around online and in the process maybe hammer out a coherent thought that resonates with whomever stumbles up on my blog (either by accident or intention).
This morning I had no inclination to do my laundry after Mancub left for school. No, what I fully planned was crawling back into bed for another hour or so. Then, once fully re-rested, I'd make a pot of coffee and chillax with the morning news. Oh, who am I fooling? I would have parked my carcass at this amusement box and goofed around on Plurk or Facebook with an intermittent perusal of one of the blogs I have listed over there ---------->
Maybe I should always plan on being Miss Slackerass because, rather than going back to bed, I put on clothes, sorted laundry and hauled my tuchus to the local gas n'sip/launderette. Small town living is just so freakin' peachy.
For a Monday, the gas/laundry facility was desolate. Just the way I like it! I know I come across like I'm an outgoing, friendly sort. Let me reassure you that all such notions are completely misunderstood. I am not a people person. I may be smiling when a stranger strikes up a conversation with me, but in my mind I'm stabbing them with toothpicks and wishing they'd just shut.the.f*ck.up. When my iPod earbuds are firmly shoved in my earholes it's a pretty good indication that I'm not willing to converse about some topical news item ... or worse, a topical ointment required to heal said strangers weird rash or the oozing pustule on the hind end of their Bassett Hound.
Go on and spew. I have nothing but time today. I'll wait.
I was happily going about my business totally delighted that I actually had enough quarters to feed the washers without breaking a $20.00. Go me! (Go Mancub's bank. Hush. He swipes all the change I leave on the tables. Mom giveth; Mom taketh.)
After the loads were complete in the washer and tossed into the dryers, I sought out my iPod. Still alone, I crossed the threshold to the gas station to get my free cup of coffee. FREE! I first played the games loaded on the iPod. Judging by my scores, I needed a second cupful of maple/butterscotch cappuccino. Don't ya love the whirring convenience store lattes? Hey, did I mention it was free?
So, I'm basking in my solitude with nothing but the hum of the dryers when a woman who couldn't be a day over 87 comes in with her little load of dirties. She's about half my size or more. I do not make eye contact. From personal experience, I know eye contact with the elderly can be detrimental, especially in a rinky dink small town. For someone like me who finds being mute an exceptional means of therapy, it's crucial: NO EYE CONTACT!
My jacket was hanging on a hook that was perched from the corner of the folding table. This acts as a barrier between me and granny groovy sneaks (she had on some bitchin' purple Skechers.) I could see her in my peripheral. She bore a striking resemblance to this Mr. Roger's Neighborhood Land of Make Believe character She kept looking at me. I resisted the urge to appear friendly by smiling at her. All I could think of was how eery the likeness was to Lady Elaine. Daniel the kitten warned me in my head, "meow-meow-meowmeowmeowwww"
I didn't have the volume turned up too loudly because I could hear her drumming her nails on her folding table. Then, she moved to the washer lid. *tappity tap tappity tap tappity tap* Back and forth she went from the table to the washer. GAH!
I finished up my folding without incident. By the time I was loading up the car another patron had come in. Like an anxious puppy, Granny Groovy Sneaks was pacing with, I presume, the prospect of a friendly conversation.
As I made my short drive home it hit me. Just like our aloof felines, I am quite similar. I want to be left alone until I want attention. I'll ask for it; demand it even. You'll know if I am giving you permission to talk to me ...
...I'll just rub against your leg and purr right before I rake my claws over your shin.