I feel like I’m always doing laundry.  In fact, tonight before I left to run an errand and pick us up some dinner, I  took some laundry out of the dryer and threw a new load in the washer….  I threw the dry clothes on the dining room table. I’ll fold them when I get back (i.e. pray that my mom, who’s over, will get to them first)….

At California Chicken Cafe, I spend 5 minutes debating (in my head) about which salad to have. I order two California Salads (chicken, feta, avocado, tomato, pita chips) and take a number and wait for my order. Crap. I changed my mind. I want the Chinese Chicken Salad. Will be great for leftovers for lunch tomorrow.  I walk up to the counter and try to get the cashier’s attention. She’s in the middle of helping a middle aged man (with a bandage on his nose) and his lanky 20-something son.  
“Um, whenever you get a chance,” I say as they exchange cash, “I just want to change my order.”  The middle aged man (MAM) looks at me. He does a double take. What? I waited until you got your order in. What??
“There’s something in your hair” he mutters.
“Huh?”  I say, not really hearing him.
“You have something in your hair,” he points to it.
I swat at my hair. Ew. What is it?  He keeps pointing at my hair like he’s seen a ghost. Everyone in line is staring.
“It’s still there,” he says and takes a step closer. Um, can I just get my salads please?!
“It must be my son’s food or something,” I say digging for an excuse. 
The cashier yells, “No it’s kind of big.” Big? What the hell is it?!  I pat my hair again. I feel nothing.
The MAM takes a step closer. “Here, I’ll get–“
“No! That’s okay. Really, I–” He takes a step closer. Now he’s fully staring at my scalp. I’m frozen. The last time I washed my hair was on Saturday. My hairline cannot be pretty. I am so embarrassed. Can somebody just get my salad please?!
He takes another step closer. Now he’s touching my hair. OH MY GOD.  He’s PICKING through my hair like the mommy gorillas at the zoo. I’m going to die.
“Got it, ” He holds up a piece of lint. “Here you go,”  he says handing me the remnants of  my laundry. 
“Oh, thanks… Hey. Look at that,” I say apologetically, not knowing what to do with a shitty piece of lint.
On my way out, the MAM, now sitting at the table makes some sort of sweeping gesture over his head as I walk by. Great, nice. You’re honest and helped a complete stranger. Congratulations. Weirdo. 

I get in the car and look in the mirror. What is that? I look closer. Another piece of lint. Oy.
The moral of the story is multi tasking is great, but either I’m going to have to start washing my hair more, or start doing less laundry….

FILED UNDER: A Little Life

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