Laundry Day

I have three piles of laundry; a dirty pile, clean pile and a mystery pile.

The dirty pile is sticky. Clothes are bonded by rancid food. When ants showed up, I sprayed a can of Raid on the whole mess. I needed professional help. Bud’s Dry Cleaning offered a three-for-two promotional discount and it was close. I shoved the entire pile into a black lawn bag and left.

The response of the counter person went as expected. What a little snot! As he pulled out my black lace bra, a crazed ant that had survived the Raid skittered up his arm. He gasped and ran to the manager’s office.

An unkempt sweaty man huffed his way to the counter. The name on his shirt came into focus. Mike, Mike the manager. Our eyes met. I looked at him with fierce determination. You will clean my clothes, I thought.

Mike inhaled sharply and flashed a WTF look at the snotty assistant. He bravely dumped the bag on the counter. We all held our breath as my clothes dropped out in clumps. Deceased ants trickled out and precariously adhered to my teal cashmere sweater which made them appear to jiggle. Even I was ready to heave.

“Next Thursday”, he grumbled.

I was awakened by the phone at eleven-thirty am. It was Mike the manager from the dry cleaners. He said this was the final call. I dragged myself out of bed, shoved my pajama top into my jeans, threw a coat on and left for the cleaners.

The same little snot was at the counter. Our eyes met through the glass door. As before, he ran to the manager’s office.

My teal cashmere sweater was presented to me accompanied by a smirky judgmental look from Mike. I felt a lecture coming on. I headed him off at the pass with a mournful look.

“Oh, that sweater reminds me so much of my dear mother, she used to wear it all the time. She just died and is with Jesus.” I thought the Jesus part would throw him off track. It did. Manager Mike bought it. I went on,

“She was saved you know.”

Of course, he didn’t know anything, but I was forcing him into an appropriate response of compassion, sadness a hint of joy for the Jesus part. Anything else would amount to poor customer service.

The little snot from the counter reappeared. His face was reddened as if he had been crying. He had overheard my tale of grief. He blurted out that his mother had just died too.

“But she wasn’t saaaaved”, he bawled.

Our eyes locked. I fake gasped. Go light a candle then, you little idiot.

I continued,

“These are all mother’s clothes. We found them in her hamper. She was in too much pain to do laundry and no one in the family could afford help.”

I made fake sniffling sounds as I gently ran my hands over the soft sweater. After a few more loving passes, I abruptly withdrew my hand, sniffled again and began to apologize.

By now, I could hardly keep a straight face.

“I’m so sorry to dump on you, but it was just so sudden, such a shock, I just start to blubber. Sorry.”

“Um well, uh”, he muttered with his head lowered. “some items were too far gone to be cleaned without damage to the fabric, uhhh…like your mother’s pretty sweater here. We got the smell out, but…

Looked fine to me!

I paid, half smiled and gathered my clothes, but before I got out the door, the snot assistant rushed up to me and asked if I would like to come to a Bible study at his home. He was very enthused. He beamed and said,

“There are a lot of strong Christians who come religiously.”

Oh, haha. He had made a lame little joke.

“I already have a Bible study at my home”, I lied. “We are born again and spirit filled. We speak in tongues, the language of God. It’s a gift, you know. Not every Christian is blessed with this gift to speak directly to God and Jesus. My identity immediately changed from the dirtiest, most disgusting dry cleaner customer ever to the most spirit filled of Christians.

Finally, fucking finally, I thought. I found a good use for all that Jesus shit my sister pushes off on me. Lying, how ironic.

I barely held it together as I looked in his dumfounded, reddened eyes and said, “It’s okay if you don’t speak in tongues. Jesus loves you anyway.”

As I was crossing the parking lot, a homeless man asked me for a monetary contribution. I kept walking and snarkily told him I had just spent all my money at the dry cleaners. He smiled and softly uttered,

“God bless. Jesus loves you”

Asshole.

I had to get out of there fast. I threw my newly cleaned clothes onto the passenger’s seat and sped through the parking lot. I finally arrived home. Jesus doesn’t love me here. I am safe.

My clothes had slid off the seat and were on the car floor in a heap of protruding hangers and plastic. I was happy with the newly created car-clean-pile, but where was the green sweater. I found it neatly folded in the separate uncleanable clothes bag. It was all I needed so I left the rest in the car.

Later that day, I was standing in a grocery check-out line. A woman behind me started to chat, as people do, when stuck in a long line. She said,

“What a beautiful sweater! You just don’t see that shade of teal anymore.”

I thanked her and said it had always been my favorite. My groceries were ready and as I turned to go, I looked at her earnestly and said,

“God bless you. Jesus saves.”

Haaaaaaahahaa

Epilogue

Patty tripped over an opened Amazon box that was hiding under the clean pile. It contained her new barbecue set that was a gift from her mother. She was fatally skewered as she unceremoniously bounced down the stairs. She wasn’t saved, but it was God’s will.

We see through a glass darkly. (1 Corinthians 13:12)

WTF

https://medium.com/the-haven/laundry-day-the-final-chapter-13eba5f2bd73