Monday, 12 December 2011


So last night I was a good girl. I went straight home from work and did dishes, took out the garbage, and prepared a few loads of laundry. Now another plus of my new Queens digs is that there is a laudrumat next door. I don't even need a laundry bag or anything, its like leaving my building and walking 2 steps.

I was very excitied to finnaly use this facility and my mind was bursting with all the possible love interests I would meet while doing a load of laundry. First off, when I walked in, I truly believe I was the only native English speaker (not that there's anything wrong with that), and there was no man in there over 5'3", which would not do. Secondly, I didn't realize that tuesday's and thursday's are free dryer nights so the place was hopping like downtown Dubai on market day. Just getting an open washer and not getting clipped by a 90 year old woman with a laundry cart was hard enough, forget finding love over the spin cycle.

After procuring a washer I ran immeadiatley back upstairs to my apartment and got my breath back. The scene downstairs was incredibly stessfull and annoying. After a half hour I went back down to cautiously move my clothes to a dryer. (remember, its free dryer tuesday)

I have not done anything this technically difficult in years. I was weaving in and out of people, balancing my wet clothes under one arm, while furiously gesturing with the other for people to "mooovvveeee" out of the way. At one point my right foot got caught on a wheel of a basket and I thought for sure I was going down, and definetly taking someone with me in the process. But out of chaos I had a split second of clairty. I saw an opening, and I took it. Finnaly, my assorted towels and sheets would be dry.

Ok, a half hour to kill and nothing to read and no one to flirt with. This was bad. I was too far in at this point to go back upstairs. I would never make it. Already the digital readout on my dryer was at 28 mins. Not enough time. Then I looked to my left. There was an old school arcade video game thing. I just thought it was Ms. Pacman, but after I put in my quarter, I realized it was actually GALAGA, my childhood alien shoot-em-up passion. I hadn't played Galactica since I was 10 years old. I remember weekends spent going through dollars worth of quarters just to beat the game record. From stage one.. I was hooked.

...28 mins later......

I am at 124830 points and stage 14. A crowd of onlookers has formed around me... I am on fire, en fuego, dynomite. I am aware of a nawing pain coming from my right wrist, but I have to ingore it. These people are cheering me on as I am playing the round of my life. It was like riding a bike. The hand eye co-ordination came right back as I blasted alien ship after alien ship, avoiding all teh maurading missle attacks and bonusing at every challenge stage.

At the apex of my performance I realized my clothes had to be dry, and that Galaga or no, I had to save them. I could hear several women fighting over my idle dryer and I knew their patience would run thin any minute.

So I threw the round. Got killed three times in a row, divebomed by alien drones one, two, three.

Did I get my clothes alright? Yeah
Were the onlookers dissapointed? A bit
Will I be back next week...hell yeah, tuesday free dryer night is the place to be.

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