As I said, I really don’t care for Laundromats, there has only been one in my entire life that I didn’t mind so much, and that was before I had a child. Saturday mornings were reserved for getting up, getting the baby ready, and heading four miles down the road to the disgusting place. If you are a mother or someone that has a young child you will understand how much of a production it is to go to a Laundromat to do several loads of laundry and keeping a young child entertained without touching too much of anything. I made oatmeal and thought if I can feed him breakfast while the clothes are washing, it might kill some time and he won’t be as antsy. So let’s go through the mental checklist to make sure we have everything: breakfast, milk, a spoon, napkins, bib, diaper, wipes, toys, stroller, laundry basket, laundry, detergent, dryer sheets, quarters, keys, hopefully that’s it. We arrive and I have my son in the stroller, wheeled him halfway, get the clothes out of the car, with my son always in my sight, take the clothes in, wheel the stroller in, and okay, actually everything is now inside. And I’m thinking I’ll get the clothes in to the washers and started, then breakfast, well what I wasn’t quite ready for was when I started putting my husbands work clothes in something smelled absolutely horrible. I mean I know that sometimes they smell but never this bad; I questioned whether he had an accident. (He loved that this crossed my mind, please note sarcasm.) I put in the second armful of his work clothes and thought they can’t all smell this bad…so I looked into the washer and there it was. Disgusting, foul, gross human feces. Oh I have never been so grossed out, now remember I already have some clothes in this washer, have to pull them back out and thank God that none of the clothes came in direct contact with the feces. Picture the sight, because at this point I’m gagging and jumping around because I was disgusted beyond belief. My son is watching with wide eyes because his Mommy is jumping around. So much for the nice smell of oatmeal.
I did wash that round of clothes twice. My son did finally get his breakfast and got too tired of being there about halfway through the second round of washing my husbands work clothes, and the people that arrived were not pleased with my son’s unhappy fussing.
Oh well, this was our Saturday’s!