Shadow Dancing at the Laundromat

 

I went to a laundromat for the first time in probably 16 years today.

There wasn't a laundry facility in the apartment I lived in when I was in Mahopac so the laundromat was, basically, a weekly thing.

You knew you were committing to roughly a three-hour endeavor, from driving over, to the washing machine to the dryers to folding and going home.

I needed to get a few things done in preparation to go to San Francisco so I found a nearby place to do some washing.

Honestly, I thought I'd come out of the experience with a full post but, in reality, no. It was a small laundromat with a healthy selection of machines. There were people chatting in there but there was nothing significant about what they were saying to tell. 

It was so small in there that I sat in the car or leaned on the trunk and played Solitaire on my phone.

In fact, I washed what I needed to wash and opted to come home to my own dryer.

I was gone an hour. Maybe.

So I don't really have a post for you. At least not an interesting one. 

Back in the laundromat in Mahopac, I felt like every visit was its own blog post (pre-blog, to be clear). There just always seemed to be a character or something that would catch my eye. My inner monologue would concoct stories and, in some ways, that was part of building the foundation to be where we are today.

Three-thousand, seven hundred seven posts later.

*****

5:45 a.m.

As you're all quite aware, I have a cat.

Appropriately his formal name is Rascal, even though we literally never call him that.

Yet it fits because he knows how to do things that are interesting enough to make him interesting.

For one thing, he loves hunting shadows.

Oh, I'm completely serious. It's something I noticed back in our old home, where he'd try to jump things on the wall. Things that only he could see because I clearly can't.

He's been fascinated with the space behind the computer on my desk since we moved in here. I have to frequently chase him and it's reached that point where he'll hear me stir in bed and he'll run.

Keep in mind that this behavior isn't happening during daylight hours. Oh, no. They're happening after I go to bed. They're often waking me up.

Now a new wrinkle has been thrown in. Not satisfied with potentially destroying my desk (he hasn't), he has begun to review the wall behind my bed. So, if you're still with me, that means right ... behind ... my ... head.

I'll be sleeping or trying to sleep when, suddenly, I'll hear a THUMP as he attempts to attack whatever it is he sees, likely caused by a car driving by.

So, the next time you read some tribute to our crazy beast, please remember this story.

I have a busy week coming up. Teaching and radio and San Francisco (I'm packed already) and a conference and a red-eye flight and, eventually, football. And, of course, work, with a late Monday deposition that will keep me from joining Zolz and Fran in Poughkeepsie.

Oh, and Aaron Judge closing in on 61 home runs.