So, I was at the laundromat this morning. Arrived at 7:15 a.m. (No, the sewer connection still hasn't been made. Yes, I'm still doing laundry at the laundromat. I DON'T WANT TO TALK ABOUT IT, OK???)
As I am emptying my washed clothes into the clothes baskets for transport home to dry, I became aware of a Spanish chatter going on at the end of the aisle of washers. I did not pay much attention to it. That is, until one of the ladies broke away and charged toward me with a purposeful step.
7:45 a.m. in the laundromat and the Jehovah Witnesses have arrived. Recognizing the Watchtower pamphlet she clutched in her hand, I went on the offensive. "I'm not interested," I declared. Something in my face must have told her that it would really not be a good idea to ignore what I had said. Maybe it was my red nose. Maybe it was my bleary eyes. Maybe it was the crazed look I get when I'm in the laundromat.
"I respect your wishes," she said, "have a nice day."
I'm starting the bloody day in the laundromat with the Jehovah Witness ladies. Things could only get better after that.