Our washer was broken recently so we had to schlep to the laundry mat for emergency laundry rations.

Thankfully there is one just about a block and a half away. We walked/strolled.

Not thankfully the neighborhood laundry mat is full of crazy.

First, they’re just awful places. No one wants to be there. Well, maybe Maxine. But there is a palpable sense of dread emanating from the joint.

Second, you get your fill of awkward interactions.

Billy - who is either the purveyor, the manager/attendant, or just the laundry mat guy - was super chatty and nearly impossible to understand. Probably the 4th time he tried to sell me a Pepsi OUT OF AN EMPTY WASHER LIKE IT WAS SOME KIND OF LOCKER I finally understood what was being offered.

While Billy was outside on a smoke break, the lid on my rented washer started bouncing. Like violently. I approached with caution. That’s how loud/bang-y it was. Billy even peered inquisitively thru the window.

The agitator had come loose and was whipping around off kilter. I had to open the lid to get the spin to stop, but I can’t express how sure I was that I was going to be boxed about the face by this thing while Maxine looked on in horror. I would have just abandoned our belongings if it wasn’t a load of cloth diapers. (All of which I re-washed when our washer was fixed. I’m not a monster.) I made it out in tact after unloading soaking wet diapers, re-attaching the center of the machine and then re-starting.

And, let me preface this next part by saying there is nothing wrong with wearing an ostomy bag. It is an unfortunate medical necessity that befalls most assuredly lovely people. I’m just saying, you don’t have to wait for the machine to buzz, you know your day at the laundry mat is through when you see a comrade’s fecal collection bag.