The old laundromat down the street with its dimming flourescent lighting buzzes like a swarm of bees. It makes the old washers and dryers have a yellowish tint not unlike an old photograph from the sixties or seventies. The hum of the Maytags sing to me softly. A row of plastic chairs are bolted to the floor next to the folding tables. Random dryer sheets flutter to the ground as I take in the smell of "fresh breeze"...I have grown used to this place. I sit here for fifty-two minutes as my clothes become clean again. I am not here often but regular. Each time I inevitably get roped into conversation despite my efforts to appear "pre-occupied". Hoping that the pink earphones from my IPOD or the newest chick-lit novel will deter any "chatty Kathies" from striking up conversation. I don't mean to be rude....in fact, I often talk to strangers but once the sun has gone down, I am tired of talking. Always talking, and listening which is perhaps the most tiring. I can't listen anymore tonight.
The first time I was here a tall man used the line "you sure are a long way from home"...briefly, I pause. Moving around so much has caused me to forget sometimes where home is...and even worse at times I forget where I am. Everything mushes together. I realize my CA license plates are still on my car and I make the connection. "Yeah" I respond without much affect. He begins to converse with me. I think he is hitting on me. I hate to sound self-involved but he carries on. I lie to him. I tell him my husband moved here with me. He quickly retracts and the conversation is over. Two weeks later I am having same conversation with an entirely different man. Same lines. Same lie. (Did someone write a book on this or something?) It's like on of those freaky sci-fi movies where the same event happens over and over again. Different people but same words. By the third time I am accepting it as "traditional laundromat conversation starters". I guess I missed the memo.
Thirty something, single, men are not the only ones who like to solicit themselves at this laundromat. One day I was approached by a well-dressed older woman asking me if I knew God. This time I am armed with IPOD, Grisham novel, and cell phone texting deterents. I pretend I don't hear her but she stands in front of me unwilling to take my non-subtle hints. I look up and she asks if she can read the Bible with me. I oblige her...do I have a choice? She represents a religion know well for their prostelatizing. She reads for ten minutes talking about the end of the world which only emphasizes the bleak ambiance. She leaves me a brochure and tells me that she can help save me. Tonight I walk into the laudromat and find it empty. A man emerges from the back and leaves then returns. He too pulls out the line "you sure are far from home"...I think to myself "I really need to get those changed". He asks me if I go to church. "Yes", I reply. "Have you found one here?" "Yes" "I want to invite you to MY church", he says. He tells me the name and I don't recognize it. I ask if he is Christian. He replies, "My church is centered in Christ but we are anti-baptist." I haven't heard of this one before. A woman walks in and informs him it is time to leave. He is done trying to save me too. I am once again left alone. All that is left is the hum of the dryer and the flicker of the lights. This has become comfortable again.
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