Too Much Cleanliness

When I lived in downtown Las Vegas near Freemont Street, my neighbors were a lovely, lively bunch of people. My apartment was inside First United Methodist Church. I lived across the street from the police station, behind a bank and next door to a casino. Bums slept in the alley outside my door.

About the only accommodation the church didn’t have was a washing machine. I took my wash to the laundromat once per week, usually early on Saturday morning before the crowds arrived. One such Saturday I pulled into the laundromat just as the attendant unlocked the door. As I toted my stuff in he said to me, “You’ll probably be alone for an hour or so before any other customers come in. I’ll be across the street at Denny’s if you need me.” Then he left.

I carried my laundry basket to the first row of washers and started sorting clothing into machines. A man came through the door and walked to the opposite end of the row. He opened a duffle bag and shook it’s contents into the washer. Then he took off his shirt. Next his tennis shoes came off and went into the machine. His socks followed. He reached for his belt.

I started pulling clothes back out of the washing machines and returning them to my basket. I left the laundromat just as his underwear were coming off.

Mistaken Identity

The bathroom was clean except for the mirrors.  I needed Windex.  I went to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of paper towels, then reached under the kitchen sink and pulled out my brand new blue bottle.

Back in the bathroom I sprayed the mirror and scrubbed.  And scrubbed.  And scrubbed.  It kept smearing and seemed a bit sticky.

More Windex.  Spray.  Spray.

Scrub — it was stickier!  And smeared.  What the ….!

I grabbed the blue spray bottle, turned it around and read the label.   Oxy-Clean Stain Remover.  Oh.

I went to the cupboard that houses my laundry supplies and checked the shelf.  Windex, sure enough.

That means that yesterday the window cleaner did an excellent job of getting the soy sauce out of my t-shirt ……

Good Hair Day?

Today, every half-hour or so, Chez would look up from whatever he was doing, see me across the room, and his face would suddenly light with joy. He’d dash to me, declare jubilantly in his high squeaky voice, I love you!, then hug and/or kiss me, before bounding away as quickly as he’d arrived.

Today, Maddie would look up from whatever she was doing, point at me and giggle while shaking her head.

Today Kevin told me I am his favorite beautiful teacher.

Today Ms. Jewls and Alyce talked about my hair as though I weren’t in the room. Luckily they said nice things.


Today, Cass studied me very seriously as she walked a full circle around me. “Some of your hair is gone-d,” she said.

“Do you like it?” I queried.

Cass thought for a moment then shrugged. “You look the same,” she said. “Just different.”

Message In a Bottle aka The Mimi Meme

Mimi started it — as usual.

Cooper participated, then tagged O’Ceallaigh & The Quill. I told OC he had to respond to the tag because Cooper is his girl-friend. He did such a good job I decided to play, too, but I opted for silly instead of serious.  After reading my message in the bottle, if you don’t get the joke, click here.

If you want to participate in this Mimi meme, there are rules, see Mimi’s post to read and follow them.

Oh, I was supposed to tag five people. That means YOU are tagged.


That’s how I feel about this weekend.

Nothing horrible happened.  But nothing good happened either.

If I had it to go back and do over again, I’d sleep through the whole damn thing.

My batteries certainly haven’t recharged.  I feel worse coming out then I did going in.