Laundry and Laughter


I walk into the laundromat alone. Drove to town with Alyssa– and we split up and she walked to a cafe while I went to do laundry.

And walk in and a middle aged woman wearing and apron and a twenty something girl full of tattoos are folding laundry and talking.

The woman with the apron works here, and I can tell is about to talk to me.

“Don’t I owe you a free laundry?”

“No, not yet. Thanks though,” I smile.

Then the girl tells me how much she likes my hair, and says how she wishes she could pull it off.

And I say, you could.

And then the older woman says, no, you’ve got to have a full face with strong features. She tells me my face is perfect for this hair, but the other girl’s face is skinny and works better with long hair.

And then a man brings a puppy into the store, and they both run over and pet it midsentence.

People are so welcoming and whimsical when you let them be.

When you walk into a place alone, you’re always in for an adventure.

My face is breaking out, I’m wearing my grossest sweats (just cleaned, though!) and my hair is sticking straight up. And I’m wearing flip flops with my jayhawk sweatpants and my high school cross country sweater inside out. And this is the night everyone wants to become best friends.

Stop by the gas station to pick up allergy medication, and this is when I get people asking for my number.

The guy at the register is asking all about my life, telling me “Do you click your heels to go home?” with the Kansas reference and wanting me to write down the program I’m in so he can apply.

And he keeps talking to me while he rings other people up, and it’s really funny. And I remember those situations when I worked customer service, how the store will be dead for hours, until you find someone to talk to. And then you’ve got a line out the door and people tapping their feet.

And I tell him bye because I don’t want to hold up the line any longer, and he sticks out his hand and introduces himself formally, telling me he hopes he sees me again.

What I need to do:

Just always walk around looking like I just rolled out of bed.

Which I already do, but when it’s extremely noticeable, when I’m feeling the least confident, is when everyone wants to talk to me.

Thought: Maybe it’s not so much that people just always seem to talk to me when I’m in my pajamas, maybe it’s more of the idea that I’m just always in my pajamas.



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