Today I took the padded cover from the media room sofa to a launderette. This is the third or fourth time we’ve had to do this, thanks to a cat with a urinary infection (sigh). The launderette down the street has the world’s most uncomfortable benches (the seats are really angled) and last time, Ken took it to a different launderette closer to downtown. So I figured I’d go there. I’d planned to go this morning, but it got later and later and I was doing stuff…you know how it goes.
Finally I stuff the thing in the car, along with the jug of anti-pee stuff (for the first wash), a small container of laundry soap (for the second wash), and my computer bag, and off I go.
The downtown launderette was dirty (dirtier than most). Mexican music blared. The large washers all had small openings, so I had to work to stuff the cover into it. I poured in a generous amount of anti-pee stuff, at which point some of it splashed back up on my face. Sigh. Then I got change, loaded it into the slots, and pushed the little drawer closed.
It popped back open, sending most of the quarters flying. So I tried again, pushing it in firmly and pausing before letting go. Same problem. Third try. Nope.
I peeled the cover out of the washer, chose another one that looked like it might be functional (i.e., didn’t have dials or levers missing—I mean, seriously?), stuffed the cover back in, loaded the change tray. Meanwhile, a man with a violin has come in and is playing some wailing song that has absolutely no relation to the music blaring from the speakers.
I attempted to get the machine to take my money. Same problem. At least this time, I’d waited to add the cleaner.
At this point, I was done. I peeled the cover back out, plopped it back into the rolling cart to take it back out to the car, collected my laptop bag, and headed out into the parking lot.
At which point the rolling cart, which had not been rolling well all along, stopped dead. I slammed my shin into it. My breath caught and tears sprung. Gritting my teeth, I pushed again, rolling it as carefully as I could towards the car. A guy walking towards me said “Be careful with that cart—looks like it’s off.” Oh, thank you so much.
I drove away, debating whether to go to the other launderette. Decided I was thirsty and hurting and wanted to go home. Whether I wait until Ken gets home and make him wash the damn thing is still up in the air.
Meanwhile, my shin isn’t doing very well. I have a small blue lump and it hurts like hell when I stand or when I sit with my foot on the floor. It doesn’t hurt quite as bad if my leg is propped up. I’m icing it now. Whatever I make for supper with be quick and easy; I think a cobb salad it right out (again).
Don’t you like it better when I just ramble about writing here?!
On another note, my ride to Scribal Guild fell through (which I didn’t find out until I e-mailed the person this afternoon to confirm what time), and the only other person who offered would be coming by extra early because we’d be going out to dinner w/someone else. Unfortunately, I’m still working like a madwoman, and I can’t take the time for both dinner and Scribal Guild. Of course, since I can’t sit normally, either, this is probably for the best.
This is all not to say that the day has been a total loss.
First, Ken sent me a card. :-)
Second, I received word that my story “Lost & Found,” which is slated to appear in Lesbian Lust: Erotic Stories in August, has been accepted for Best Lesbian Romance 2011!
Um…okay, those were the only two things I can think of. I’m sure something else will crop up.
Now, back to work!