The Freckled Diaries

Let It Snow!

 

 

So, we're having a major snow event. Like, not only "major-for-DC" (which is anything more than 6 inches....or 4 inches), but major, like major outside of ski resorts. 16-24+ inches expected.

I couldn't be happier if I tried. I freaking love snow, I love snowstorms, I love being snowed in, I love it all. It's the best thing ever. I seriously can't think of any better way to spend a day than watching the snow outside, while staying all warm and cozy (preferably with a fire in the fireplace) eating grilled cheese and tomato soup, watching old movies with whatever company happens to be snowbound with you (at the moment it's my kitties and my cousin Rebecca).

We knew this was coming--all but the most skeptical of us knew that we could get up to a foot of snow, maybe more (the totals, you see, have been seriously upped), starting about Wednesday. I mean, we knew about it starting Wednesday, the snow was meant to start last night, get serious at 2am-ish and continue all Saturday into Sunday.  

I was out at Bistrot Lafayette  last night for dinner and showtunes/ Christmas carol singalong at the piano bar upstairs. This time, I went with a group of librarian friends (all of us with quite impressive credentials, as we realized last night--me in the Senate, one at the Supreme Court, one at the US Institute for Peace and two at the Securities and Exchange Commission). We were also joined by my friend Erin and her friend Allison. It was like a scene from a movie--upstairs in this old building, a cozy bar, piano, elderly and spunky pianist, several "confirmed old bachelors" and us, singing away while snow gently fell past fairy-lit trees onto the brick streets outside. Lest you think it was all "O Holy Night", I must say that these guys can make anything raucous. I would pay good money to see our "12 Days of Christmas", each person getting their own "day" to sing, with instructions to act it out. I (of course, just my luck) got #6--geese a laying. #2 declined to sing, but rather flapped his wings and made some bizarre dove-like sound with increasing desperation each round, so much so that #1 was usually unable to chime in because he was laughing so hard. #10 (lords a' leaping) was also particularly hysterical and very nearly resulted in injury. It was as grand a time as was ever had there.

By the time we had to leave (early, at midnight due to snow), there was already a good 2 or 3 inches of snow on the ground. I attempted to ride a bit on the sidewalks but the Uneven Bricks of Death are even worse when obscured by snow---and we get heavy, wet snow that is super slippery. The bike made a fishtail, and I jumped off. Wasn't going to risk it for just a 5 block trip. I did get some good pictures along the way, though.

Poor choice in footwear for the evening. 

 

The Amsterdam, the Old Town Theater, Snow, Fairy-lit trees on King Street. What's better?

 

Me and the Amsterdam, home from our journey. It was brought indoors for the evening due to the snowstorm. Check out my wreathes! (And, random fashion insert--I love how that dress is about the same length as the coat--must remember that combo in future!)

I have (what I think is) a funny little video from later in the evening, when I went out to get some video of the cat in the window. Will work on it and post later!

 
  
 
 

Reunited!

You can't tell but she's purring up a mighty storm in this photo. I've been away since Saturday in (or on my way to/from) South Bend, Indiana for my grandmother's funeral. 

Now, before I come off as heartless or something for not being terribly broken up about my grandmother, you have to understand that I am one of many grandchildren and the combination of the hundreds of miles of distance between us and her general antipathy toward children (yes, even though or maybe because she had nine of her own) we were never really close. I was there to pay my respects, to support my mother and to see some far-flung family members for the first time in a long time. That's just kind of how it is, and I wish the whole grandparent thing had worked out better (I never really knew any of mine--one because of estrangement, one because of an early death, one because of an early decline into Alzheimer's and one because of....her) but it didn't. So that's why I don't sound like someone who just lost a grandmother.

Anyway, because I'm generally Not A Fan of air travel (for many and varied reasons, the major two being death and destruction, followed closely by how much of a freaking hassle it is), I decided to take the train. The Capitol Limited is a train route run by Amtrak between Washington DC and Chicago, with stops at some major towns/cities (including South Bend) along the way. It leaves DC shortly after 4pm and arrives in Chicago shortly before 9am the following day. The return leaves Chicago a little before 8pm and arrives in DC at about 1pm the following day. Always looking to try something new and intrigued by the prospect of two full nights of sleep in the same week (there and back), and having noted that even first class accommodations (a sleeper car) were competitively priced with last-minute air travel, I decided to give it a whirl.

I don't know why people travel any other way. I cannot say enough nice things about Amtrak and the service. I snapped a few photos, I don't know how well they turned out though. Basically, with the sleeper car (an extra charge on top of your VERY reasonably priced ticket), you get a little private room with two (very large and comfey) airplane-style chairs facing each other. Those chairs can be pulled out to make a twin sized bed at night time. There's also a pull-down bed from overhead that makes the second bunk (if you're traveling in a pair--if not, you get your choice of bed!). You also have all meals included--and these are real meals, ordered from a menu complete with daily specials while sitting at a table with REAL silverware (none of this plastic crap) and tablecloth. In both directions I got the herb roasted half of a chicken with mashed potatoes because I've been on a real big roast chicken kick these days. You get a salad and dessert as well. Breakfast is also quite nice with lots of choices, made to order. Just lovely. The sleeper car attendant takes down what time you want your bed put together and takes care of all that. On the way there, I chose the top bunk, on the way back, the bottom. I think the bottom was all-around better and more comfortable but who can resist the top bunk?

I loaded up my iPod with Season 3 of Battlestar Galactica (yes, yes, I know) and just kind of relaxed. I got to bed early both nights, and woke up having slept for 8 or more hours feeling like a new person. It was great.

 

Entering my little sleeping area.

 
 Top bunk!

The funeral proceedings itself were simple but nice, and even though the circumstances were sad, the family was happy to be together again. It's always good to see them and every time I do, I resolve to get out to Indiana, Nebraska or Idaho (where they all live) more often.

 

Finals are Upon Us

Well, they have been for a week now, but I'm just now getting to that "haven't slept, feel like vomiting" stage. What's frustrating is that I've gotten really good at this school thing. I could do finals easily under any other circumstances. But now I've got work and a Huge Scary Deadline for work to deal with, and the Official Job Hunt (this one is still not a permanent job even if they did just renew my contract until May and gave me another unasked for massive raise). Oh, and the fact I've been doing the school and work thing for 12 months now, without a break, and I'm exhausted. And I added extra-curricular activities (dance, karate, Irish parade stuff) every night of the week. How I long for those days as an undergrad when all I had to worry about was finals for four classes!

Anyway. Wish me luck.

Crazy Neighbors

If I were in my upstairs neighbor's shoes, I'd think that that girl downstairs is absolutely nuts (but hopefully an endearing kind of nuts).

We don't see each other often, but almost every time we have, I've been a total spaz. I was so frazzled when I first moved in here (because of the nature of my having to leave the old apartment, the move itself and then the whole "hole in the kitchen floor/non-working refrigerator/ too big of a replacement refrigerator" issue. I went up to introduce myself anyway, which (having gotten to "know" him a bit more) is just not the kind of guy he is. I've needed to talk to him about a few issues here and there (a major one being that every time he would shower, it would drain into my bathroom), but he's tough to track down. Often, I just wait until I hear him coming down the fire escape (his backyard/parking area access) and run out to catch up with him. He always seems surprised and flustered to see me, and I'm usually keeping him from being someplace and it's usually over some stupid issue that he really doesn't care about anyway (he was concerned about the shower though).

I know he hears me talk to/argue with the kitties, because I can hear him talking on the telephone. I know he can hear me singing to myself because I can hear him singing to HIMself. In my defense, I didn't start singing until I knew he was the singing type too. Incidentally,my favorite thing about him is the singing--he comes home just about every night with a different song. The other night it was "I've Never Been In Love Before" from Guys and Dolls. Sigh. I almost started singing along but that would have been weird even for me. Anyway....what else? I've set off smoke alarms at 4am (Inauguration Day--we had a 5:30am water taxi and knew we'd need a big, hot breakfast), climbed up the fire escape mildly intoxicated, in my pajamas, with a broken foot at 2am to retrieve a feline escapee, frequently use foul language at high volume when stuck in an endless automated telephone customer service ("I SAID SPEAK WITH A [blank]ING AGENT YOU PIECE OF [blank] ROBOT") and frequently have all the trappings for hand-laundry (basin, washboard, wringer and huge drying rack) set up outside.

The bikes this summer and fall probably didn't really register. But it's winter now. He saw me ride up at some point during my back-and-forth on Saturday (during the "snowstorm") and actually exclaimed "yikes!", and then told me I should be careful riding in this. Tonight, about an hour ago (on my way home from the Metro--had the bike with me on Metro because I rode it in but had dance class on the Hill until late and I don't do the trail alone after 10), I whizzed by him about a block from our house. It's a short ride from the Metro so I hadn't put on the pants I've been wearing under dresses. So I was flying by him he all bundled up, me almost bare legged (I have on nylons) in 32 degree weather. I could be imagining it but I thought I perceived a little shake of the head when I looked over my shoulder to check for cars before entering the intersection.

I hope, at least, that he finds me amusing.

Lessons Learned

I learned a lot today.

(1) People WILL steal your bike helmet (and rear light, and purposefully break your front generator light). I'd always figured that you can't force people to wear helmets, so why would they steal the singular lest cool thing in existence?

(2) Higher end bike helmets have sizing charts and can be ordered online.

(3) I have an absurdly large head.

About the theft/vandalism: I left it parked at the Metro overnight, which I knew was a risk but I'd never done it before and figured "how unlucky can I get". Heh. I hate people.  I'm not upset about the helmet (I have another, and it was nothing special and I like having an excuse to get one I like), or the rear light (it wasn't expensive), but I'm just more upset that it happened. I mean--what the hell? There's no resale value for them--this was just done to be a jerk. I AM upset about the front light. I really hope it can be fixed--it's built in on the Amsterdam and is one of the features I like the most about it (it's so pretty!). I'll be hugely disappointed if I have to swap it with some ugly one.

Bastards.

 

Busy Day!

Ah....

That's the sigh of relief of having finished a very busy (but VERY fun) day in the life of....well, me. It's odd, because I've been nothing but busy for months now (or, well, really a year now...I started my job at the Senate Library on December 2 of last year and full time school plus mostly full time work=not so easy), but this kind of busy feels so different from what I've been doing these many months, but yet so familiar. Maybe it's the Christmas/Holiday season busyness that everyone goes through or...something.

Either way, I started my day at 10 am (don't laugh, I didn't get to sleep until 3 because I was up writing a paper that was due today), and prepared myself for karate class. I then exited my home to go to my bike (to take me to class) to discover that the snowpocalypse* I'd thought was predicted for Saturday night/all day Sunday was in fact for Friday night/all day Saturday. I must say, hats off to Dottie from Let's Go Ride A Bike and everyone else who rides in the snow (and enjoys it!), because my experience was abject misery. According to Google Maps, it is .7 miles between my house and the dojo (that sounds so long--I think of it as 10 blocks), and it was .7 miles of miserable awfulness. My feet were frozen solid, my karate uniform from mid-thigh to knee totally wet (and cold), my hair was wet and snowflakes and pieces of flying ice/"wintery mix" kept getting into my eyes. People in cars were even more humorless than usual (grammatically speaking, can you be "more" of "xxx-less"?). Put simply, it sucked. Now, I don't have the proper gear, or anything that could be defined as "gear" at all, and that's probably largely the culprit. But I was not a happy camper.

Anyway, I got to karate class, where I did get some serious "omg you're so tough" points for having ridden the bike there. Unfortunately, about a half hour into class, I very nearly passed out because I hadn't eaten enough and because that's what happens to me when I exercise vigorously before noon.

Straight from class (which ended at noon), I got back on the bike into the snowpocalypse to the Metro to go to actual class--the one for which a paper was due today. From 1:30 to 4, I was a slave to Information Systems for Libraries (the worst class I have ever taken at Catholic or any university), then back on the Metro. On the way home, I realized that being on the bike in the cold and wet could be much more comfortable if I had warm, dry feet and I should get some wellies and wool socks. I got off the train at Pentagon City (a major mall in the DC area) and went hunting. 2 hours later, I came out with some wellies (yellow plaid!), two hats, a flower headband, and two dresses. No wool socks to be found. But the dresses totally made up for it. Macy's is having a major sale and has awesome stuff. I got this dress (don't mind the huge pile of laundry on the ottoman) 

 

for $24. It was on the half off rack and the lady in line ahead of me gave me a coupon or an additional 25% off....all on top of Macy's big ol' sale.

I then got back on Metro, retrieved the bike, raced home (got there by 7) and got showered, blow-dried and dressed (in the new dress!) in 25 minutes. Back on the bike all spiffed up to go to Arlington. One of my friends from ballroom dance class is the conductor and director of the Alexandria Symphony Orchestra (his wife is also in the class and is one of "The Catherines". He offers free tickets to all their events. For some reason I don't fully understand (though I suspect has to do with Arlington trying to lure the Orchestra away from Alexandria), they were playing their holiday concert in Rosslyn. I was so pressed for time, I did my makeup on Metro. 

The concert was great, and I had fun catching up with folks from dance class. It started at 8, ended at 9:15 and at 9:30 I was in my cousin Rebecca's car on the way to Shirlington to see "An Education". We've both been DYING to see it for months now, and she texted me last minute to let me know there was a 10pm showing and this was her last free time until Christmas. The movie was great, I'm SO glad we made it and I had an absolute blast being out in my new dress. We decided we wanted to talk about the movie and "catch up" after not having seen each other for 6 whole days so we went to Murphy's in Old Town--got there at midnight on the dot.

This all brings me back to what I WOULD have been doing today had it not been for grad school. Today was Alexandria's Scottish Walk--our Christmas parade. Alexandria was founded by Scottish merchants in the 1600s etc etc....it's just a thing we do. As most people know, I belong to a group which plans, organizes and fundraises for the Irish cultural events in Alexandria (mainly the St. Patrick's Day parade and the Irish Festival). This organization's members march in the Scottish walk singing Christmas carols and pimping our own parade (and not drinking Irish whiskey from flasks. Nope.). If I hadn't had to be in class, I would have been marching in said parade and participating in the day-long liver-busting bar hop fest that was last year (long story short--a friend of a friend would up crashing at my house, but before I was even home, because she was too drunk and had like a 4am flight home and at some point got up and made herself soup in a skillet--we're lucky she didn't burn the place down). Those were the days. 

Instead, this year, I got to hop in at the very end. All the bars (Irish ones in particular) were ALL hopping and lit up for Christmas. Men in kilts and women dressed up all pretty were in abundance. Everyone was in good cheer. It's actually better to come in late, because then you get much of the fun, but without the hangover. Note to self for next year.

One of the many things I love about living in Old Town (I'll get more into all of them another day) is the walk home between 1 and 2am. The bars are closing, everyone's out and about, you see some crazy ass shit (excuse the language but seriously, there's no better way to talk about it--office wheely chair, drunk people, cobblestone, snowbank---you do the math), have random and funny interactions and everyone's, generally, in a swell mood. It's just great.

So then I came home, checked my email and started updating my blog. The end!

*The Washington, DC area and all of its inhabitants absolutely flip out beyond all reason every time something "not rain" falls out of the sky.  This snow wasn't even sticking to the ground and only UP TO 4 inches (in the far western suburbs--the Appalachian freaking Mountains!) was predicted and people behave as if Christ himself was floating out of the sky with four horsemen and a flying pig in tow. It's so extreme you'd think people were doing it to be "ironic". But they're not.

More Books

Hey, look. I updated my Shelfari. I'm actually not reading any of them at the moment, as at least one of them is not yet published (the one I'm looking the most forward to but which Shelfari for some reason won't let me place at the top---"Faithful Place" by Tana French). But this is The Plan for winter break/Christmas.

So #1 is Faithful Place because I LOVED the first two books Tana French wrote. Please check them out. They don't have to be read in order because they're not technically a series but they do have the same characters....yeah. Anyway. First "In the Woods", then "The Likeness". You (probably) won't regret it, even if you don't normally like mysteries.

#2 I'm most looking forward to is "The Song is You" mainly because my favorite work of contemporary fiction is "Prague: a Novel" and this is by the same author (Arthur Phillips) and has gotten rave reviews. I think that for me it will be very hard to top "Prague" but we shall see.

#3 is The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo because I started reading it this summer but had to return it to the library when I was only 50 pages in (there was a queue behind me and I couldn't renew). Lesson learned: don't check out 5 books at a time, you'll never finish them all! I liked what I'd read, but I have to say I don't see what all the fuss is about. Then again, I only got 50 pages in.

#4 is Sorting Things Out because I like that kind of non-fiction (popular non-fiction about odd topics--like "Cod: the Biography of the Fish That Changed the World"), but this is about classification! Go librarians!

#5 is the Quiet American because I've been meaning to read that since before we went to Vietnam (oops....). My cousin managed to accomplish this (or read it while we were there?) and loved it and insists that I will, too. And I stayed at that hotel (the one in which it is largely set, I understand). That and it's kind of a modern classic, and while Greene's not quite one of the Lost Generation modernists (or is he? is Evelyn Waugh?... surely not, right? maybe straight-up modernists? ack, it doesn't matter and I wasn't an English major anyway), I kind of get the impression that many of the things I appreciate about Hemingway and Fitzgerald and company I would like about Greene. I'll let you know how that theory turns out.

So that's it. I've updated the Shelfari. After....a year? I've been busy.

Edited to add....alright so The Quiet American didn't show up, but Barbara Kingsolver's new one did. I just like her and have lots of her books on the "To Read" list. This one may or may not make it. Greene gets a bump. But I can't make Shelfai cooperate. Stupid Shelfari.

Nice To Have Warm Friends

I have the two cutest cats ever. No competition. I just turned around to see this:

 

When I'm at the computer late at night, Penny (the gorgeous gray one) is one of three places: on my lap, at my feet or on the chair behind me. When she's on my lap she just wants to hang out. When she's at my feet or on the chair, she's waiting for me to head to bed (and usually when I get up, she beelines for the bed to claim "her" spot).

She and Toby are buddies, but like all sibling-cats run hot and cold with each other. It's nice to see them getting along. It's really late (even for me) and I woke them up while sneaking pictures and they think it's bedtime. For Toby, that means going off to wherever he goes at night (it changes, and it's always well hidden...he emerges once I'm asleep and sleeps by my feet), for Penny that means left side of the bed, right where my hand is going to go (all the better to provide her a pillow).

Goodnight!

Take This Pink Ribbon Off My Eyes

So, I originally wasn't going to write about this because, well, it just didn't occur to me to write about it. Also, I'm really not trying to turn this into Catherine's Bike Blog, but that's really mostly the interesting stuff that's happening in my life is about right now. (Alright, not the total truth but I'm a little trigger-shy to write about people who don't know they're being written about and who I still don't know all that well yet). Anyway.

So my bike, my Amsterdam, has had this annoying little habit of letting the seat slip down lower and lower until it's as low as it can go and I feel like I'm riding a child's bike and get sore quads. For a while, it happened so gradually I didn't know what was happening. I actually thought it was ME--I was getting more and more used to cycling that I was wanting the saddle up higher and higher as I got more comfortable. That may be partially it. Anyway, the first time I noticed this, I went down to my bike shop to have them raise the saddle for me. It was a sunny Saturday in summer and they were busy so foisted this easy job onto some teenager who hangs around the shop. No problem. Honestly, I didn't care. I saw that he used an Allen wrench, saw which bolt type screw thingy he messed with (sorry, my technical knowledge ends at "Allen wrench")  and went to my local hardware store to buy my own set of Allen wrenches (they were out at the bike shop). The kind lady at the hardware store had me bring my bike right in and she helped me figure out which size I needed (a 5).

Fast forward a few months, and I've started to notice that the saddle is lower than I'd left it. Repeatedly. This time I'm SURE it's slipping. On Saturday I went to tighten the bolt thingy with my number 5 Allen wrench but the wrench wouldn't work past a certain threshold of tightness. The bolt thingy (screw? it doesn't look like a screw to me) was stripped. I know ALL about stripping of screws and things like that (I'm a bit of a disaster in the DIY department) so I know a stripped piece of hardware when I see it (that sounds vaguely dirty, I know and I really can't figure out how to re-write it so it doesn't). Worse, it wouldn't even tighten enough to stay where I needed to it even for a little while. Even with just part of my weight on the thing, it would fall down. No good. So I rode down to the bike shop.

There were two of the regular employees there, and one kid. Up to age 16, but that's only if the poor kid is still waiting for puberty. My real guess is 13. There was only one customer in the store. Everyone was back in the shop part doing I don't know what, but there was a lot of chit chatting. After exchanging a quick hello and "oh you need your seat raised?" (which I tried to say, yes but the screw is stripped and I need a new one, but didn't have time to get it out), the 13 year old was sent out to help me. 

I explained the situation to the child, and produced the wrench I'd been using. He told me that it was too small and that's why I couldn't tighten it. I told him that it was stripped and that's why I couldn't tighten it. He ignored me and raised my seat and proceeded to tighten the bolt or whatever it is. I told HIM that it needed to be much tighter than that, and demonstrated by pushing down on the saddle with my elbow and some force. It fell. He raised it again, tightened it. I told him to tighten it some more and the wrench started spinning in there, just like mine did. He then said that it was stripped, probably because I had been using too small a wrench (remember: this kid is like 13, I've been in there with a simple fix for much longer than a simple fix should take, there is ONE other customer and no one thought to come out and see what was going on). He went back into the shop to get a new bolt/screw/whatever. He came out with a replacement, tightened it up very well and that was that. I asked him what size wrench he'd used (having actually believed that the stripped screw was my fault).

Size 5. "But THIS is a size 5", I said, holding up my wrench. Which was only met with a shrug and a "I guess you stripped it somehow".

To clarify: My problem was assumed to be so small and easy that a child was sent to deal with it. I was at least one step ahead of this child the whole way. When things got slightly more complicated than tightening a screw, no adult came out to help, or even to make sure that everything was done correctly. A child somehow made me feel like I know so little about mechanics that I created this problem myself which (a) is false and (b) is sexist. There's also a (c) but it makes me a little sad. I think that (c) is that maybe one of the mechanics said something under his breath or to the child to make him think this about me. I really, really want to like this bike shop. It is so close to my house, and it's the place I bought my bike (so they have the parts etc), but this isn't the first time I haven't felt like the most welcome customer there. Although they carry my kind of bike, it is more of a road/adventure bike kind of place, and it almost has a motorcycle shop feel to it.  I know at least one of the employees "effing hates" my kind of bike because he told me so (lots of components on the rear wheel--fenders, chainguard, skirtguard etc, makes it difficult to work back there). They always seem like this weird combination of amused and resigned when I show up. Anyway, weather or not one of the mechanics said something to the kid, the fact that this has even crossed my mind is not good, and it disappoints me.

Anyway, it's their loss. They carry the Electra brand (the Amsterdam is just one of many models Electra hasl). Electra has a new model called the Ticino (see the pretty picture from bikereviews.com):

 

My sister wants a bike for Christmas. I think she'd like this bike. She'll be here for Thanksgiving. I was going to take her out for a test ride. We may have bought the bike from my bike shop because I don't know of any near my parents house that carries Electras. I hung around the shop for a while after the kid fixed my bike, looking to see if they had any Ticinos. The kid came back out from the back after a few minutes, asking if I needed anything else. I explained what I was looking for, he failed to understand, said that the others were busy and that I could come back another day. Well. I'm not going to. I can't. I don't want to take m sister down there if they don't have any in stock, I don't know if/when they're open over the holiday weekend and I work on Monday and Tuesday. Their loss (even if they wouldn't see a missed opportunity to sell this kind of a bike as a loss-- I suspect Electras are too low-end for them the really care all that much). Ah, well.

Because they're only 8 blocks away and because they're almost the only local dealer for my brand, I think I'm stuck with them. But they'd better stop treating me like a girl.

And here's the video, in case the title got that song stuck in your head, too.

Dear Children of the Laundromat,

First, you must understand that I am on your side. I was once one of you, you, the wretched of the earth, you tired, poor, huddled masses yearning to breathe free. I know that it is not your, but your parent's doing that you are here, that you did not, nay would not, come by choice but by trickery, cohesion, bribery or force. I too, have been a child held prisoner in the laundromat. 

I know how unthinkable it seems that you have to be here even longer than you have to be at church, for crying out loud! I know all about the dearth of entertainment options, the grown up television programs so often in languages other than your own, the sickly sweet smell of detergents, fabric softeners and dryer sheets intermingling, the dizzying feeling that accompanies watching the clothes go round and round and round, the heat from the dryers combined with the smell and the spinning threatening to make you vomit. I also knew those other kids who all have candy and won't share, the strange and crazy old ladies who keep trying to talk to you, the head-exploding anger and frustration that comes from realizing that the towels need to go through for yet ANOTHER endless cycle just when you thought this bloody torture was over and, with shame, I know all about the key to the bathroom. The one on the wire clothes hanger, which can never, never be produced quickly enough to prevent a wet pants incident which, in a twist worthy of Nemesis herself, creates yet more laundry to be done and promises to keep you here even longer. The laundromat is, unequivocally, the worst place on Earth.

So I feel for you. I am on your side. So you must understand that what I am about to say is a dire warning. Calm the fuck down or someone is going to kill you. There are some rough looking characters in here and you are getting down to some pretty raw nerves. See that guy over there? The one whose laundry cart you smashed into his knee while you were playing bumper cars with the carts? I saw his hand twitch as if he was instinctively reaching for a knife. Lucky for you, something stopped him or you would have been cut! You're a little young for a shiv scar, kid. See that lady, the one with the screaming infant who you woke up when you went tearing by the stroller shrieking "ready or not here I come"? I'm pretty sure she was gauging which size washer you'd fit in. Those front-loaders lock from the outside! See those bright orange bits ground all over the floor? Those were your cheese curls. You better pray no one’s freshly washed whites fall into one of those piles.

So here’s a quick tip: you can probably stay home with Dad. If it is a Sunday afternoon, there is a sporting event on television. That’s what Dad is doing right now as I type this. Yes, he probably told Mom that you had to go with her because he was going to be fixing this that or the other thing and you shouldn’t be around dangerous tools. Bullshit. He’s watching the Redskins get their asses handed to them. There are many ways that you can ensure that you’re left behind, and you’re probably better at this than I am. My suggestion is to watch for when Mom starts gathering up the laundry from the baskets. If there’s a baby in the house, this will be immediately after he’s been put down for a nap. Start vomiting. If you can actually vomit-on-command, perfect. If not, get creative. Miss the toilet. Cry a little. That ought to do it. If you absolutely cannot get out of going to the laundromat, just watch yourself. Adults don’t like it here any more than you do and you’re one of the reasons why. Try to reign it in or get very, very good at self defense.

Yours in solidarity,

Catherine