So, I came home and decided that I would and could and should write again today. I'll be busy tomorrow morning, getting ready for Loie's annual Valentine Luncheon which starts at 11:00. Let me tell you, as soon as that prosecco starts flowing, I'm going to be in another world entirely. This is one, very horrible Winter and I'll walk home through the snow if I have to.
In prepping for being a woman of total leisure tomorrow (and one who, most likely would not be able to do much anyway), I decided to pop some laundry in. Rarely am I at a loss for writing prompts and that communal living stuff never disappoints. Today's dish-up is about the laundry. Well, more precisely, it's about the fact that there are two washers and two dryers and thirty units of people who live here. All very clean and mostly all rather old. It seems that the little laundry room which is located across the driveway from our apartment, has become something of a meeting place, that doing the laundry is the new Winter activity and rarely is it vacant or without a small group of congregants who wait around through the cycles and then put three items in each of the two dryers for forty five minutes during which time they stand around and talk about whatever bored older people like to talk about. I don't know because I'm a fast-paced laundry person. I get 'em in, get 'em out, pop 'em in the dryer and come back forty five minutes later to bring 'em all home. But......I do exchange pleasantries should there be others on the premises during that time. Most of the people are extremely pleasant and we've shared a friendship, superficial as it is, for a number of years so it isn't a problem except if I am in a hurry. And, I don't want to get too up close and personal because I would rather they did not get too close a look at our dirty underwear. Nor do I want to check their's out. Just sayin'.
But my point here, my big need to write it all down, is that today I bounced into the laundry room, happy to find the washers empty, pleased that I could get this chore out of the way, and of course, I smiled and said a big "hello" to the neighbor-man who was waiting for his to dry and......nothing. Was he blind? Deaf? I don't think so......nothing. Rude, that's the word. Unfriendly. That's another one. Un-neighborly, yet another. So, I plopped my wash in and left the laundry room. When I returned to recover my clean clothes and throw them into an empty dryer, he was still there. Again, no smile, no words, no nothing. We totally ignored each other as if neither of us were actually there. This time, he was reading. The book, I noticed, was one with "spirituality" in the title. How nice. I continued in monastic silence and went about my business, still thinking that this was one rude dude and, to boot, one who was on a spiritual journey. I couldn't stand too much more, I mean that room is small....he was a foot away at all times. And then, I spotted it, er "them", on the floor, between the washers and my day was in the process of becoming "made".
I put my quarters in the dryer, pushed the button and started my exit....with a flourish.....put my hand on the doorknob and I spoke.
"Sir, I believe that you have dropped a pair of your underpants on the floor between the washers" Good bye.