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go away, i’m washing my panties

March 22, 2009

historical perspective on my home before i continue with this post: the mr. and i purchased this gigantic house nearly 5 years ago at a foreclosure sale, paid cash for it and we own it outright, not the bank. our home is more than 150 years old and its foundation is the strongest of any home i’ve ever seen. three levels of living areas, full-on basement and attic and a good sized backyard. part of my definition of the american dream includes owning all of our properties, which now include 3 residential structures and 1 business, without having a mortgage. so far, so good.

the fun part of our home? she’s a true blue fixer-upper, and every bit of fixing accomplished since day 1 has been done with our own hands. i feel really good about that. really good! we’ve installed all new windows (nearly 30), new floors, new kitchen, painted several rooms, etc. i know so much damned information about how to fix up a home, and i love knowing i’ve got all this knowledge cramming my brain.

because this home is a fixer-upper, the mr. and i decided to install the laundry room last; most of the other rooms were in serious state of disrepair and it was far more important to fix those rooms first. as you can imagine, since we don’t have laundry facilities here in the house, we’ve got to rely on the local laundromats to get the clothes squeaky clean.

i think laundromats serve as a microcosm of nearly every part of our lives. you’ve got the “hook up joint” aspect, where single dudes and babes strike up a convo while washing their unmentionables. then there’s the local “quickie mart” with the vending machines serving up ice cold drinks and sugar-laden treats. we’ve also got the “coffee house” thing going on because the laundromat is the place to pick up on the local gossip.

it’s important to remember there are strict rules of social etiquette which must be observed the entire time you’re in the ‘mat, and none is more important than the “i’m married/attached/dating, so don’t bother me” rule. sure, you can hook-up with someone, but only as long as that someone wants to be picked up. i don’t wear my wedding ring while at the ‘mat (because i don’t want to lose it), and without sounding overly egotistical, i am cruised on many occasions. most the time, i’m able to indicate i’m taken when the male cruiser notices i’m folding men’s jockey shorts. on other occasions, it’s necessary for the female of the species to employ loud and obnoxious tactics in order to make the cruiser disappear. today was such a day …

on this day, my male cruiser was a 1st timer at my local ‘mat. he asked me a couple of questions (where’s the change machine, how long for each quarter in the dryer) which i answered and when on about my way. he followed me outside both times when i took a cigarette break, and both times he asked to bum a smoke. both times i told him no (my cigs are expensive and i have them shipped to me). i was starting to get a creepy feeling, and attempted to avoid him at all costs. more questions, more nonsense, more requests for a cigarette, and then he takes up shop at the folding tables directly across from me. i finally had enough, so i put a pair of my freshly-laundered black panties on my head and screamed at the top of my lungs, “leave me the fuck alone and go away–i’m washing my panties!” he looked at me like i was certifiably insane, picked up all of his belongings and moved to the opposite end of the ‘mat. mission accomplished. everyone else in the laundromat laughed out loud. i finished folding my clothes, my underwear on my head all the while.

lesson learned: do not mess with a cougar whilst she’s washing her panties.

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