My Adventure to the Land of the Lost aka The Laundromat

Having a zillion animals and children who seem to think the "no eating ice cream bars in my bed" only applies to other people, I found myself in the sigh worthy position of having to face the fact my down comforter needed to be cleaned.  So I shoved it in my washing machine, dumped in a ton of laundry soap and let 'er rip.  Go to pull it out and it weighs about 300 pounds because once soaked with water, it was simply too heavy to spin....I had a feeling this might happen so decided to run the washer again...in retrospect, I get that adding water to something I wanted to have less water in was not one of my most brilliant ideas, but at the time, I panicked.  My plan? Failed.  Now, a water logged, king sized down comforter is difficult to get out.  Especially when it has gone through two heavy load cycles. I put on my obstetrician hat and, using my arms as forceps and a lot of comforting encouragement to the washing machine, we got that sucker out.  Then I had to flop the dripping mess into the bathtub while I tried to figure out what to do.  Aha!  I'll stomp the water out!  Didn't work.  Not a bad theory if our bathtub was vertical but alas, it is not.  Henry comes in and asks if he can help.  Sure!  Watch him hop in with black feet because he has been playing in the backyard for hours barefooted  and in his boy brain, didn't think stepping on a recently washed and bleached WHITE comforter was a terrible idea.  It was.  So now I've got a muddy 600 pound ball of feathers...begin to panic because I know there is only one road this baby is taking me and I dread it.....so here it is, my advise on how to get through your next visit to the laundromat. 

First, get contractor sized garbage bag.  Work with children to maneuver comforter into bag.  Drag it down the stairs, use momentum to hurl it into van.  Wipe brow because this is similar to weight lifting.  Pull up to laundry.  Promise kids giant Slurpee if they just cooperate with you for the next hour.  Admonish self for using food as an incentive.  Decide fuck it, people have been bribing other people for years and if buying them a Slurpee is going to get you in and out of this hell hole with the least amount of stress, you will take it. 
Drag your black garbage bag inside...literally.  Realize it appears as though you and your children are hauling in a dead body.    Go to nearest giant machine.  Fight with the muddy beast to get it out of the bag and into the machine.  Wipe brow again.  This is exhausting. Dump $5 of quarters in.  Realize you have forgotten laundry soap.  Again, decide to fuck it.  The dust covered little boxes of Cheer that are behind the counter look like they have been there for years and you're pretty sure if you open it it would just be a giant laundry soap cake bar thing and then you would have used your extra quarters on the Cheer and gotten no cheer...laugh to yourself for  your little pun.  Decide not to share it with kids because they won't get it and YOU ARE STRESSED AND EXPLAINING YOUR FUNNY JOKE OVER AND OVER AGAIN WILL NOT BE WORTH IT.  Point out old pop machine to kids.  Watch them soak in the nostalgia....realize you may have possibly stepped into some sort of weird time vortex because all of a sudden, it feels like 1975 in this joint. This pop machine sells no water and you swear, the owner is drinking a Tab, which you didn't even think they made anymore after it killed all those rats. 

As you take in this beauty, you eyes wander and you realize little boxes of Cheer aren't all that's on the menu...they have a LAUNDRY BAR.  Realize you ARE in 1975 because NO ONE puts brown in rainbows anymore.  Check cell phone to ensure it is still operational, what with the recent time travel it has undertaken.

Watch what you are sure is a serial killer compulsively fold and refold his shirts. Decide you will have to take a different route home just in case he has any ideas about killing you.  Let eyes wander to older couple eating picnic style out of Tupperware.  Realize that you and serial killer dude are the only ones with operating machines and wonder what the hell this couple is doing sitting on the floor eating their lunch.  Start to itch because this?  Is not within the range of your comfort zone.  At all. 

Decide you are being far too judgemental and attempt to lose yourself in the silk flower basket arrangements hung willy nilly on the wall and the artwork:

During your art walk, come upon a Family Guy pinball machine and what appears to be some random arcade game.... that has CENTIPEDE AND SPACE INVADERS AND ASTEROIDS!!! Realize this place just might redeem itself yet.  Do the side purse jiggle to get game quarters.  Teach children how to play the games and during each lesson with each child, push them out of the way to take over because you can't take it...they so obviously did NOT  inherit your wicked Centipede skills.

Transfer blanket to dryer.  Serial Killer Dude takes this opportunity to give son a handful of quarters.  Wish you had bought that Cheer to use as a weapon if necessary.   Watch him pull away in an EL CAMINO.    Wonder when Doc is going to burst through a dryer in his Delorean and take you back to the future.

Dryer is done.  Fold and follow Picnic Joe and his wife out the door.  Realize they HAVE NO LAUNDRY WITH THEM as they hop in their car.  Fight the urge to ask why they wouldn't go to a park for their picnic instead of the floor of a laundry but decide against it.    Drive to 7 Eleven and get yourself a big ass Slurpee, too,  because this experience requires ice cold sugar. Later that night, watch as cat pukes up giant hairball on comforter...and start to wonder if you could get the high score on the Centipede game because you are going back.  Only this time, you're prepared.