Invasion of the Laundry Snatchers

Invasion of the Body Snatchers
Has something small, non-crucial, tiny and not a big deal in the grand scheme of things ever really BURNED you up?

That would be where I am right now.

About three weeks ago, as I prepared to leave town for Atlanta, I did some laundry. Four or five loads, I think. I live in a high rise building, that has the debit-card-operated machines in a laundry room on the top floor. You put your things in, pay to start the machine, and go back down to your unit to wait the 35 minutes for wash, 45 minutes for dry.

The benefit to this system, which at times is a bit of a chore, is that you can successfully wash/dry up to five loads of laundry in an hour and a half. With folding time, you're at two hours - and you can watch a movie in the meantime.

I do my laundry pretty regularly. I travel a lot, so it is often unpacking, into the hamper, washing and re-packing. I know the drill.

I don't, however, sit upstairs and watch my clothes as they wash and dry. My first two years in Chicago, we had to lug our clothes to the laundromat five blocks away, and that was enough laundry-watching for anyone's taste.

(That reminds me, there was a hilarious laundry push-cart incident when Jill's cart met a cracked piece of sidewalk and her 5' little body got thrown over the top of the cart, leaving her upside down on Webster Avenue. I know I shouldn't laugh at the image of her body splayed out across her white metal 'granny cart,' but I just can't help it.)

I digress.

So, this laundry night a few weeks back. I didn't realize it at the time, but as I went to pack for a trip, and subsequently un-pack, I realized that I was missing a few things. A black cardigan and a pair of black Michael Kors jeans, to be specific. Trying to be thorough, I retraced my steps. Which led me to New Jersey, naturally. I called the hotel in Princeton to no avail. They went all the way back to June to assess if I had any "found items" attached to my hotel room records, and I did not.

I then scoured my closet. I'm a neat person and tend to put things back after they've been worn, so it was unlikely that I'd find them there. It's not like I've been sleeping over at anyone else's place lately, so where could they be?

Then I realized, as I dressed one night for bed, that I was missing a pair of black PJ shorts that match a set I have. Never mind, I'll reach for the grey pair. Also missing. Both coordinating tank tops were in my drawer, which is a hefty clue to the fact that the shorts were missing. I'd never pack/wear the mismatched set. (That fact likely sounds far more unusual than it is, I assure you).

Then what?

A few days later, I realized I was missing my grey leggings and a navy tank top, which also goes with PJ pants.

Now I was just annoyed. Ticked off to no end. I had now counted SIX items of clothing, all in the dark wash family, that were missing.

Without suspicion, I drafted a little "Missing Laundry" sign for the bulletin board in the laundry room. Promptly went up and tacked it there. Offered a reward, even. Gave a "no questions asked" line. Suggested several ways to get in touch with me, and ways to return the items for said reward. Come on, you ladies KNOW how hard it is to find pants you like - and these were Michael Kors jeans that fit me perfectly!!

Anyway. I just went up to the laundry room to put a few loads in while I wait in anticipation for the ABC fall shows to premier.

AND....my sign is gone.

Did the clothing thief realize that I was hot on their (his? her?) trail and take it down!? Who would do that, unless they feared getting caught? The sign removal isn't until the end of the month! And it's only the 23rd!

(And yes, I'm totally staring at every person that is even remotely close to my size who wears black jeans to see if they're sporting an MK on the butt pockets. Just don't ask me what I'll do if I DO spot them!)

I couldn't be more annoyed right now. I immediately grabbed a piece of paper, a Sharpie marker, and made a new sign, listing the items and once again offering a reward and return options. I'm taking it back up there in 17 minutes when my loads are finished washing.

Please don't tell me I'm going to have to watch condo channel 94, the one that spies on the laundry room, from now on when I put clothes in? To keep an eye on the machines, on a look-out for clothes-snatchers AND sign-stealers?!

That would bring my single-living to a whole new low.

Changing the channel now...

Act Up Already, Chicago!

I've been asked recently why my blog hasn't been much about commuting lately, and there is just one answer to that.

People have been behaving! I can't take it anymore.

Where are the rude passengers, the terrible drivers, the butt pivoters, the horrendous smells, or the really fat people?

All this well-behavin' gives me no material for dissection, no topics for fodder. Did everyone get a copy of Emily Post's book while I wasn't looking? Is the threat of summer infecting everyone with such good vibes that we're actually being POLITE to one another? Are we just so glad that we're able to ride public transit while the gas prices are nearing $6 a gallon?

Can't someone just throw a fit on the 145 bus? Could I get a traffic incident that incites the mob mentality? May I please have a cranky old person to yell at a young, fit passenger rudely sitting in the disabled/priority seating?

Great, thanks.

*Side note: Due to the unfortunate lack of commuting material, I've been pondering changing the name of the blog to something more universal. Thoughts?

Borrowed Laughs

This was just too funny, and familiar, not to share. Please visit the proper author of this post at The Nuts Are Running the Squirrel House. You'll be glad you did.

And, do us all a favor. DON'T BE THESE PEOPLE.
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Being in a classroom atmosphere has reminded me of how there always seem to be a few “special” people in attendance. (Not necessary this specific class, but generally.) Here are some people you may have had classes with before.

Clicky McClickerson - Constantly has a click-type pen in hand. Waits until everyone is concentrating, and then begins the rhythmic audio torture, oblivious to the pain of everyone else. I think I speak for everyone when I say, “Clicky, put the pen down, or I will put the pen down for you. And by “down,” I mean, “in one of your less comfortable orifices.”

Sniffy McSnifferson - For the love of all that is pure and holy, please just blow your nose. And then, if you feel a bit of nasal drippage again, use the tissue to wipe it away. Don’t sniff so much. Or so hard. I think I had a pen in my hand a minute ago.

Bouncy McBouncerson - You are moving the WHOLE table! Seriously! Take some meds. Or make sure you’ve gone through your withdrawals before work. If I wanted everything around me to shake, I’d move to California.

Chewy McChewerson - It’s cool to chew ice. If you’re alone. If you are around me and I hear you chewing ice, I will assume you need help crushing the ice, and will help - with my fist.

Wrappy McWrapperson - When it’s really quiet in the classroom, there’s no way you’re going to open that bag of chips or piece of hard candy unnoticed. Bite the bullet and open it quickly, don’t drag it out into a 5-minute production of trying to gently open the bag. If you do drag it out, I will wait until we are in the lunchroom, then loudly ask you if that rash has gone away yet.

Whispy McWhisperson - Usually Whispy is a girl who, for whatever reason, knows the answer to a question in class, but doesn’t want to say it at regular volume. This basically says, “I know the answer, and I’d like those around me to know I know the answer, but I just don’t have the courage/energy/confidence to commit this answer to my vocal cords.” I’ve found that if you taze Whispy everytime she tries to answer under her breath, she eventually stops. Well, stops moving. Turn that tazer down a notch.

Mouthy McMoutherson - Along with Chewy, this classmate thinks that others enjoy listening to the wonderful sounds that they can make with their mouth. Whether it is chewing loudly, making “tsk” sounds, or clicking their tongues, these people must be stopped at all costs. Normal assault laws do not apply in this case - you can act with impugnity. Suggestion: Use large sticks.

Breathey McBreatherson - Yes, we know you can breathe. And really, you’re quite good at it. We just don’t want to hear EVERY FREAKING ONE of your breaths. Clear your sinuses, close your mouth, and we’ll all get along just fine. (WARNING: Breathey may morph into Sniffy if he manages to clear his sinuses, but they start running. Hold on to your pen if you don’t want it to become a casualty of Sniffy’s nasal vortex.)

There you have it. I’ve given you an update, and reminded you why your blood pressure skyrockets around other people. You’re welcome.

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*I am really wishing I had written that. Hilarious...it applies to meetings, too. And you've all been there. I had to restrain myself from tearing the pen out of a Clicky McClickerson Client once. And it was a pen that, regrettably, I'd put in front of his place at the table. Woe the day.