Dec
Posted on 6th December 2010
A couple weeks ago I dropped my laundry off at the laundromat to have the ladies that work there do my laundry. I used to do my laundry myself all the time, but since I am a celebrity with an on-the-go lifestyle, sometimes I just drop it off and let the laundry ladies take a crack at it. Usually it goes really well and I pick up my laundry later the same day and it is all folded up nicely and squeezed into a perfect rectangle that I can’t even fully wrap my head around. When I picked up my laundry after dropping it off a couple weeks ago (as mentioned previously), however, something was different, specifically my floral bedspread was missing. It is a delightful bedspread that really completes the look of my bed and now it was MISSING. MISSING, dammit!
I returned to the laundromat to ask the laundry ladies if they happened to have my delightful floral bedspread somewhere in that laundromat of theirs but they didn’t. They suggested that maybe it got put in with someone else’s laundry and now we just had to wait for that person to return it. This seemed like a completely reasonable explanation because I knew of at least a couple times when I ended up with a few items of someone else’s laundry in my laundry bag and I had to march that stuff back on over to the laundromat. I decided to go home and wait it out.
I suppose the thing to do at this point would have been to take another bedspread and put it on my bed in the meantime, but I decided against it. I wanted to be constantly reminded of the fact that my delightful floral bedspread had gone missing, even if that meant freezing my ass of in the process.
I went back to the laundromat a couple days later to see if maybe someone had returned my bedspread. They hadn’t. And I’ve since checked a couple more times. Still no bedspread. Still no justice.
It is at this point that I am pretty sure some bastard is totally at home enjoying my bedspread, cozying up to it late, late night at night and enjoying it just as I had been for the past couple years. It pains me to think of this, especially when I’m freezing my ass off in my own bedspread-less bed back at my apartment, a place where innocence was now shattered. Eventually though, I am reminded of the fact that my balls and general ass area have been all of that bedspread and now that bedspread thief is pressing his or her face up against it. It is in that moment that a comforting warmth spreads across my body and I need no bedspread at all. And then I fall into a deep, deep sleep and dream the dreams of small children who know nothing of a world where some bastard steals some other bastard’s bedspread.
Love,
Dave Hill
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