Dirty Laundry

Getting my clothes washed out here in the desert has taken on a new significance for me lately. I generally go to the local little laudromat every other Sunday. All of the signs posted in there are in Spanish and you would be hard pressed to find any other Whites in there. I actually kind of like it in there since it makes me feel like I am in another country. Well I have had to wait for a machine on occasion in the past but recently my little chore has turned into a nightmare. About half the machines are broken now and the place seems to be packed everytime I drop by.

Last Sunday I went in there and there must have been 20 guys hanging out in the little room all with laundry in their hands waiting their turn. It was a rainy day so I assumed they weren't able to work in the fields and were taking this rare time off to get chores done. Well needless to say I didn't really want to wait around. So I figured I had enough clothes to make it to Veterans day and I would try again.

This morning I woke up early and headed over there. All the machines were being used again! There was only one guy waiting this time but that was one too many as far as I was concerned. I had heard about another laundromat in another town about five miles away so I decided to take a drive. I headed down the highway until I saw a market that had a big sign on the side reading "Landermat." Bad English on signs is also something I can never get enough of.

I walked into this never-before explored laudromat and I found it empty except for a little old snowbird couple! Seing them was quite shocking for me so early in the morning. They were quite friendly of course, they said they were just finishing up and the machines would be free in a second. I loaded the machine with my grubby clothes and sat down to read a book while I waited. The place started filling up with migrant workers and it was good to know that I had beat the rush on this particular day.

It felt nice to get out of town to see how the rest of the world lives, even if it was only for an hour or so. Then as I was heading out of the parking lot after finishing my laundry, I spied a drifter with his thumb out. He needed a ride in the direction of my town. I let him jump in my car and he told me about his troubles during the 4 minute trip. I let him out by the gas station here and perhaps by the time you read this he has made it to Phoenix. Now that skepticklish is such a success I suppose I could always buy a washer and dryer but then I would miss out on all the fun.

Speaking of bad English I just had to point you to a column about the intelligence of Bush and his supporters that I wish I would have written myself. However to be fair, unlike some in our camp, I doubt any Bush supporters are stupid enough to pay $5 for a cup of coffee, drive 20 miles out of their way for gourmet olive oil, or waste four years of their life on an English degree.