I’m working long hours. By long hours I mean the same hours 95% of this population works. So, take my exaggerations lightly. Waze has taken me a different route to and from work every day since I started, so I have no idea where I’m going. I can’t wait for my data to be cut off, which will undoubtedly happen within the next couple weeks. Then this gets really fun.
I’m scared that the best times have come and gone. Sipping loose leaf tea with the love of my life. Swimming in the Caribbean sea. Watching Bamae get trashed off one glass of Pinot. I know this isn’t true. But, it’s probably why the 9-5 (more like 8-6 maybe 7 maybe just sleepover) isn’t totally woo-ing me yet.
On my way home, listening to a Criminal podcast, I try to amp myself up to do laundry. It’s almost the weekend, I say. You need underwear. My car is aggressively beeping at me. Three days after my brother leaves me the car, and it’s telling me the passenger door isn’t fully closed while I’m driving. I try slamming it shut but to no avail. Beeps at me the same way your seatbelt sign will, except I can’t shut this one up. I’m driving down the 405 praying to a higher power my door doesn’t swing open and cause a commotion.
I get home. I grab my laundry. We have laundry on site, but I don’t know where it is. I text Jorydn and she tells me it’s above the pool. I’m visualizing the washer and dryer floating above water. I’m so confused and it’s dark so whatever, laundromat it is.
I show up and put four dollars (because that’s all the cash I have) into the coin machine. Psych, it isn’t a coin machine. You get an ‘easy card’. I wasn’t looking for one of those but it will do. I realize I didn’t bring detergent, so I walk up to this lady who looks super stoked to be here and ask if she has any for sale. “Cash only” she says. Solid.
I could just go get detergent and come back but no, bad vibes. I go a mile and a half down the street to Soap n Suds. The parking lot is a war zone and I sit there for a minute waiting for three different assholes to somehow avoid a three-car collision. I get out of my car and I see it: a coin machine. A real one this time. I trip over a slab of cement and nearly rip my toenail off. I verbally cuss just for show. There’s a liquor store to my left so I dip in for detergent. Grab a box of Tide. $1.56. I see the “$5.00 min on credit cards” written a piece of old receipt paper, but I slide him mine anyway. He runs it and I walk out without my car keys.
AM I GOING INSANE?
I open my back seat and the laundry is everywhere. A couple hard right turns on my way over, I guess. Before I even attempt to pick it all up, I start to read the back of the Tide box. I bought hand-washing detergent.
I shut the door and get into my car. I’m not doing laundry tonight. I pull out as three cars are doing the same. No one is letting up and I feel like I’m in a fishbowl and I start to cry.
I stop by Rite Aid and buy a box of Whoppers and red wine. I’m going to post this ridiculous blog post because why the hell not and then binge Grey’s Anatomy until my eyelids physically cannot stay open any longer.