Public Laundering, or, Come Look at My Underwear

Yesterday I went to the laundromat.  My laundry schedule usually revolves around Andy's underwear supply, which I suppose is just as well, because I have a great abundance of underwear and would otherwise procrastinate doing laundry for almost a month. 

Don't get me wrong, I have no aversion to doing laundry - when I can do it in the privacy of my own home.  I think we can all agree, though, that schlepping mountains of dirty clothes, sheets, and towels across town and quite literally airing your dirty laundry in public feels like a violation.  Also, there are always incredibly creepy people at the laundromat and WHO KNOWS what kind of filth lurks on their clothing?

On this particular occasion, I broke down and carted all EIGHT loads of wash downtown.  This put a considerable dent in my laundry pile, but I still have two more loads slumped in a pile of shame on the floor in the corner of our "office."  Lest you think less of me than you already do, however, just know that the washers at this laundromat are tiny and a normal-capacity washer could have knocked out my business in about 5 loads. 

So I pulled into a parking space in front of the laundromat.  Through the large front window, I could see that none of the washers were in use.  Success, I thought.  I have the whole place to myself.  Until I noticed something else:

A grown man was HIDING in the laundromat.  He was peering around the corner into the hallway leading to the back entrance.  He kept leaning his head around, glancing for a few seconds, and then ducking back behind the wall.  I slowly got out of my car and debated whether I really needed clean clothes this badly.  Fortunately, when this guy realized he had an audience, he decided to face whatever had driven him into hiding and he slunk out the back door, never to be seen again.

The fun didn't stop there.  The next two and a half hours of my life were filled with wondrous sights.  I arrived around 9:30 in the morning, and by 10, the place was hopping.  I was happily working on a National Geographic crossword puzzle, avoiding all social interaction, when I glanced up at a couple who had just walked past me.  It was quite possibly the worst-timed action I have ever performed, as I was greeted with the vision of an enormous man in skin-tight hospital scrubs bending over a laundry basket, exposing not just his crack, but his ENTIRE hairy, dimpled ass.

I thought maybe things would calm down after that, at least once my stomach settled.  Of course I was wrong.  Not long after, I was absentmindedly gazing out the front window at the parking lot, when a large, dark figure entered my peripheral vision.  I turned to my right and what I saw made clear to me why Santa and Satan are such obvious anagrams.  They are one and the same.  From the neck up, this man was jolly as could be - snowy white beard, powdery silver hair, merry blue eyes.  From the neck down, he was terrifying.  Dressed all in black leather and ass-kicking boots with an enormous beer belly supported by red suspenders, I figured this guy probably had a sack full of kittens and bricks strapped to his motorcycle and he was heading for the nearest overpass.

But I suppose I was wrong again.  The man was looking down at something dangling from his burly hand, talking to it.  Could it be-?  Is it really a-?  He was carrying around an INFANT in a car seat.  It was probably his lunch, but he was being very attentive to it, walking it up and down the sidewalk in the shopping center, appearing to coo to it every once in a while. 

Eventually, this oddly touching side-show walked into the laundromat.  He wasn't carrying any wash, just the baby.  He glanced around for a few seconds, then walked across the room and out the back door, never to be seen again.

I have two theories about this:  Either the back door of the laundromat is a portal to another dimension, or the first guy was hiding from Satan Claus, who is a full-time nanny and part-time bounty hunter.  Or both scenarios could be true.  You really never know in this town, and I'm starting to suspect there's some LSD in the water supply.