Too Funny NOT to Blog About ...

Our dryer is broken. This sucks because we are moving in 2 weeks. It also sucks because I discovered this when I had one load in the dryer and another in the washing machine waiting to be dried.
So, after finally accepting that we would not be able to get our laundry done, I sucked it up, piled all of our clothes (including the damp/wet ones, which, by the way, weigh a ton) and drove my butt to a laundromat.
Now, let's be honest. I was not about to go to "Scrubby's" the Laundromat in Flemingdon Park. It's close, but I'd be at risk of being shot. So, I decided to hightail it over to the fancy pants laundromat in Davisville Village. It's clean, it uses cards (so you can use debit and not worry about quarters) and it's conveniently located across from Starbucks. Plus, after a busy day of packing up the condo, who was I to complain about spending a couple of hours chilling with a book and a non-fat-no-whip-iced-mocha? Not I.
The problem is, when you drink your mocha too quickly, and your laundry isn't done ... you need to use the washroom.
No biggie at the laundromat of laundromats. There is a bathroom. You use your card to get in - and there's a little occupied sign. You are practically peeing in luxury as far as laundromats go. I was good.
Now, I was well aware it was still a laundromat, so I brought my purse in with me - just in case.
Good thing.
Because I got locked in the bathroom. Yep. LOCKED IN!!!
I have to admit, I did kind of panic. First of all, it was hot in there. Second of all, I had left all of my underwear sitting on the counter. I mean, it was buried beneath towels, but I love my panties, and I had vision of some creepy guy pawing through my stuff.
So I knocked.
Then I shouted.
And then I realized that in my pocket was the laundry card. Maybe there was a phone number on it.
Nope. But there was a name. (laundry express).
So I called Mike.
No answer.
I called again. He picked up. I didn't know whether to laugh or cry. Laughing won out. I insisted Mike look up the number and call the lovely lady who had taught me how to use the washers there.
So he did. A couple of minutes later I heard the phone ring.
Another couple minutes and there was a knock on the door.
"are you okay?" came the voice of salvation.
"yes. But please let me out" I replied.
"Stand back, dear" she shouted. I had visions of her kicking down the door. Nope. She just used her card and some special key and opened the door.
Safe. At last.
I quickly grabbed the rest of my laundry and left.
Next time - if there is one - I will go to option B and use the bathroom at the Starbucks across the street.