laundry day, huh.


i walk to pcc in seward park. i bring my zune, and i bring my seattle university reusable grocery bag. i listen to the magnetic fields because the evening before, i have looked up youtube covers of "yeah! oh yeah!" and "why i cry." i get to walking. i am hoping that the girl i saw last sunday, the girl who smiled at me and who was scooping up handfuls of mulch and woodchips is in the same spot again, doing the same thing, but she isn't. i think that i would like to have a friend who gardens, and a friend who lives nearby. i turn the corner and pass the baptist church, and i wonder what baptists are all about, really.

it's a nice day out, though i wish it was warmer. there are still clouds lingering above, threatening rain. they seem to be saying, "i can ruin your day. go ahead and try me." i pass by some houses with unkempt lawns. i see a lot of those yellow weeds and those other white weeds that i once blew as a kid to make a wish. i would wish for money. i would wish that a girl i liked would like me back. i would wish for peace in the world, and other frivolous things. i used to think those yellow weeds were flowers, and i made my mom a bookmark with one for mother's day once. she told me it was just a weed, but she kept the bookmark all the same.

i pass some strangers on the sidewalk, and a part of me wants to stop and chat, but they are strangers. we are strangers. as a child, i was told not to talk to strangers. i guess it's just stuck with me ever since. i was raised with a paranoid mentality, that everyone was out to get me. not much has changed since then. i make a weak attempt to look the stranger in the eye, and force a smile, but i get nothing in return, so my facial expression just goes blank. i am conscious of these things, and it makes me feel awkward, and when i feel awkward, i feel itchy. my head starts to itch. my neck itches. that's why you always see those characters on tv reaching for their necks when they are feeling awkward or shy. that's what happens. people get itchy.

i am still listening to the magnetic fields. i think their lyrics are ridiculous, but nevertheless, they somehow manage to make it work. i remember my audio recording teacher telling me once, "your lyrics can be god-awful, but as long as you have a great melody, it will carry your song." i think he was right about that. i cross the street just as stephen merrit delivers the line about clove cigarettes and vermouth. it makes me feel young and ironically, slightly unhip, that i never resorted to smoking or drinking to make me feel better about stuff.

i turn onto wilson avenue south, where pcc is located. it's in seward park, which is a predominantly white and affluent community. there's a guy selling issues of real change outside the store. at least that's what i think he's doing. he could also just be asking donations for some cause. the older woman who always brings up seattle university is at a register, ringing people up. the first time she saw my bag, she asked if i went to school there. i told her no, but i did, and now i just work there. she said that she went there, too, and got her masters in educational leadership or some shit. i wanted to ask why then was she bagging my groceries, but i didn't. she smiled and said it was a good school. i agreed. she said that it was expensive. i agreed with that, too. she said she'd be paying off loans for a while. a long while.

a different woman rings me up. she carefully pulls items out of my purple basket. she says that she doesn't want to break my eggs. she asks if i want cash back, and i say that i want a roll of quarters. she asks me if it's laundry day. i say yes. she says she remembers those days, laundry days, that is. she says she is lucky now, and i assume this means she has her very own washer and dryer. i think about when i will have my own washer and dryer, and the answer is probably not for a while. a long while.

i walk back to my apartment, and i do laundry, make dinner. this is how i spend my sunday. it is simple, and sometimes, i wish there was more to it than that.

2 comments:

Jaspreet said...

It sounds like a lovely day.

Lizzie said...

That's almost how I spend every Sunday.