Brrr, winter has well and truly hit. I am sitting at my desk (typing industriously) with gloves, a scarf, and my warmest tights on.
What I am not wearing (overshare ahead) is underwear. And it’s not because I enjoy walking through one of the windiest cities in the world commando under my flippy skirt.
This is because I have this habit of leaving my laundry until the very last possible moment. As in: resigning myself to a visit to the laundromat when I’m on my very last pair of underwear.
It’s not that I hate the laundromat – I don’t. It’s interesting. It’s just that the seats are super uncomfortable, so it’s difficult to stretch out or relax and read, and there’s very little else to do there for two hours while you wash and dry. It’s pretty much sit and watch my clothes spin around a washing machine, or stand and watch my clothes spin around a drier.
So last night I finally dragged myself to the 24hr laundromat on the way home from work, with a massive basket full of unwashed clothing. Then I dug through my purse looking for my laundromat debit card… and it wasn’t there. So I emptied my bag onto the front seat and found five pens, an unpaid parking ticket, and NO. FREAKING. LAUNDROMAT debit card.
I sat staring at the grilled up window for a bit deciding if I could be bothered buying another card, and then topping it up (nope.) Then drove home, swearing most of the way.
Then, just before I went to bed (after having torn apart all possible hiding spots for a debit card) I remembered to put an apple in my purse for a snack today, and sitting on top of all the crap I keep in my purse was my stupid laundromat debit card.
I don’t know how it got there, how I didn’t see it when I was pulling my purse apart in my car, or why it wasn’t where it’s usually kept – in my wallet – and I don’t want to know. Maybe I just wasn’t supposed to do laundry last night. Maybe the universe wants me risking dignity al fresco today.