Remember my laundry guy? The one who spends much too much time folding my underwear into origami, and who volunteered to be my daddy? Well, just when I thought it was safe to leave my garments in his care…
I was on a stroll, and on the building next door, spotted a hand-written note. It was from a woman who wished to warn others that my laundry guy had “grabbed” her “naked breast,” and urged us, “do not give this molester your business!”
Now, normally I would have my suspicions of such a note. I mean, why would she not have posted the note on the laundromat’s door? Or plastered copies of it all around the neighborhood? Why just this one note, not even on the entrance door, but on the fenced-in trash area? And why was her breast naked? Is she some sort of anti-brassiere feminist? However, this note was about Creepy Laundry Man, so of course, undoubtedly, she must be telling the absolute truth. How could one possibly put this past him? It’s so fitting!
I had – no joke – that very morning taken my clothes to a new laundromat; an unobscure family run business. I was fed up with my old place – they were the closest, but they weren’t doing such a good job anymore, and oh yeah, the creep factor too. After seeing that note, I sighed in relief and was extra glad my clothing was not in his dirty clutches. I was free from harm, and my non-naked breasts were safe!
And then on my way to work the other day, I walked past his shop. I’d been making efforts to walk on the other side of the street, but I forgot and crossed over too soon. I saw him in the window, and quickly averted my eyes to avoid his gaze. A block away, my phone rang. Who would be calling me so early in the morning on a weekday? The voice at the other end of the line was male and heavy with a Russian accent. Oh no. “Shima! Are you not my customer anymore?!” I stammered and replied long-windedly, “Oh, yes… I mean, no… but only because the washer and dryer in my building finally got repaired… so I’ve been doing my laundry myself… it just saves me a lot of money.” He inquired, “You have machine in your building?” “Oh yes, yes, I always have, but it was broken for a long while, but now it’s fixed.” “So you not coming for laundry anymore? You not my customer?” “No… I can’t afford it anymore… Sorry. Listen, I’m going to work, I have to go, I can’t talk anymore. Goodbye!”
I’ve been taking my laundry, happily so, to the nice Korean son and his family business. They do a good job, picking up and delivering, and they use Tide, which makes my clothes smell good. And he sends a gal to my house most times, or else he’ll come by, but in a non-threatening normal human way. I think my era with Creepy Laundry Guy has ended, although I do fear he may call me again someday. I might have to change my phone number.