Patty and I pulled
into the West Plaza Laundromat parking lot looking for a spot to
accommodate my mega cab. A couple of large mesquite trees provided
just the right shade to get in out of the sun. Here it is...the 1st
of February and we are seeking out shade. It was a high-five moment.
YES!!
You can't just go
to the Laundromat and wash a few clothes without it being an
adventure. It was busier than the first time I went. All the machines
in the front were taken. We headed to the back and found a couple of
washers while Roy, Dale and John watched on. If you're going to be
doing laundry, you might as well hang out with the best of them.
We took up three
washers. I stuffed clothes in the first, grabbed my bottle of laundry
soap and poured it over the clothes and mumbled something about not
knowing how much to put in. A tall, blonde lady laughed and said it
looked about the right amount. She should know. It was her laundry
soap. I apologized all over myself and offered her mine. She said
thank you anyway, but Tide makes her itch...and then she gave me her
shirt. She had two shirts, one blouse and another really cute Harley
Davidson long sleeve T. She said they didn't fit and she would put
them in the lost and found. “Somebody always takes them.” She
said. Apparently this is a common practice of hers. The Goodwill is
three doors down, but lucky for me, she preferred to donate them to
the laundromat. I'm not proud. I took the shirt and tossed it in the
wash with the others.
I set my phone
timer for 30 minutes so we could walk around and do some other
errands close by before it was time to swap to the dryers. We stopped
in at the Goodwill so Patty could find some pajamas. She'd forgotten
hers. It must be something in the Idaho water – between my lack of
underwear and her lack of PJ's, you would think we had never left
home before. I'm not sure what Cindy would have thought about Patty
buying PJ's from the Salvation Army. I promised not to tell. We
walked to CVS for a few other items. I checked for a bottle of the
laundry soup I'd stolen, but they did not sell it.
While we were
gone, the tall blonde lady was joined by her companion: also tall
with long, bleach blonde hair. We talked for quite a while. They are
from Arizona but travel around in an RV primitive camping on State or
BLM land. They got a kick out of Patty when she unknowingly used
“Roy's” (the men's') bathroom. The taller of the two gals
chuckled: “I never know which one to use either.”
After laundry, We
ran a few other errands in Wickenburg before heading back to camp. It
was fun showing Patty around. It made me feel less like the newbie
helping somebody out for a change. We opted to cut our errands short
and get back in time to ride before the day was over.
It was close to
2:00PM when we saddled up to ride the State Land behind Crandall's.
Patty rode her mare, Mocha and I rode Jack. He does better with mares
than J'Lo. Besides, Mocha is a fast walker. She out walks Jack. She
would leave J'Lo and me in the dust. We long trotted most of the way
in. Actually Mocha long trotted...Jack is a terrible long trotter and
would rather lope. I don't know why. I don't care either way – he
has a smooth lope.
We rode west up
the power-line road to the top of the saddle. In the far distance you
could see a few RV's parked here and there. Patty wondered if one of
them could be the nice lesbian couple from the laundromat. I said I
didn't think so. Patty asked what made me think it wasn't them? I
said because the couple we saw weren't lesbians. Patty said, “Sure
they are. She kept calling her partner hon and babe.” “Yeah, I
know,” I said, “But one of them was a man.”
Seems like there
is a label for everything. Especially when it comes to a persons
relationship status. In the eyes of society, you are either a
straight couple, a gay couple, a lesbian couple or a trans-gendered
couple. You might be married, shacking up or in a domestic
partnership. I don't know what label society would put on the couple
from the laundromat. If I had to give them one, I would label them a
happy couple. Who am I to judge a man who is more comfortable in
women's clothing. Heck, if it weren't for Cindy, I'd be wearing
dollar store underwear to the laundromat.
At one point
during our ride, Patty got this far-off look in her eye and a
peaceful sort of half smile lit up her face: “I can't believe I'm
here.” I know that look. I know that feeling. I still can't believe
I'm here, either...but I'm sure glad we are.
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