No luck. Even at 8.00 smokers are up and smoking and doing laundry.
Also Faux News is playing non-stop about the shooting at Fort Hood and what this means about how Obama is mishandling the Nation.
Oh well.
We laundered just the same, and my migraine from the cigarette smoke is not so evil. I've taken my Frova & Aleve & Xanax & am hoping for the best. Also now it is only 11:15 and every bit of clothing in the house is laundered and put away.
The kid wandered the laundry in huge circles, chewing her blueberry flavored Trident, and finally came awash by my chair. "Mama."
"What."
"Suppose...."
"Suppose what."
"Suppose you had evolved a long tail. Like three meters long. Suppose it had a loop on the end of it. You had evolved a loop on the end of it, like a noose. Suppose--"
"What would be the possible evolutionary advantage to--"
"JUST SUPPOSE!"
"All right, all right."
"Do you think you could, if you had that tail, could you loop the tail over a branch, or a rafter, maybe, and hang yourself with your own tail?"
I stare at her. She gazes back at me, intently.
"What the shit scene are you trying to write now?" I ask her.
"Do you think you could or do you think you couldn't?" she demands, exasperated.
My daughter the goth writer. Ai.
4 comments:
Laundromats have a way of bringing out the weird in everyone. Still, that was a doozy.
If you lived here I'd let you do laundry at my house. Not helpful, but true.
Yes, but you would not believe how much laundry the three of us generate in one week. We would have to move into your house for the weekend. Trust me, no one wants that.
Rum fueled laundry fun! Come on over!
Well, yeah. I didn't consider that. Laundry parties!
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