How the Mudane and Everyday Can Become Extramundane and Bizarre or, Truth: Stranger Than Fiction?
Current mood: animated
Category: Life
I just went down to the basement, in the house at which I am doing my laundry, and down there, in that creepy, dank, partly lighted open chamber, wherein at the back, rests the washer and dryer (and both are still spotlessly white; but then what washer/dryers aren't white?) as I went to empty the washer and fill the dryer, an odd sound occurred, emanating from the center of the moist pile of clothes, a sound like ripping, like tearing, like there was something plastic down there, buried in the center of the clothing-congerie. I extracted as much of the textiles as I could, and shoved them rudely, roughly into the dryer in the overly masculine way I (and probably all other men, too) do. Still, at that time, as I crouched on the rough, grey, peeling cement floor, in that little alcove over which hung the angled rising stairs (well, they are more directly behind me than anything, but that is not the point!), I had not yet found the source of the odd sound. But I had a theory: something plastic, perhaps one of the plastic bags into which I shoved those clothes that were extra and that had not fit into my hamper. Eventually, as I rifled through my own wet clothes, I discovered that my theory was indeed correct: For there, now at the bottom of the pile of clothes, now at the bottom of the washer, lying there in a clear, almost invisible, strangely argent (that is, silver) tiny pool of splashed water discharged by the spigots that lined the interior of the washer, down there, resting on the grated, holey metal of the bottom, lay a rumpled, rugose (or, wrinkled) plastic bag! It was a strange sight to say the least, but one that, then, made sense. It could easily be solved. Why had the plastic bag, how had the plastic bag gotten into the washer? Easy-I somehow absentmindedly put it in here, or had left it balled up in one of the pockets of my pants. Okay; that makes sense. But here is the weird part, the unexplainable, bizarre, almost horrific part: Inside the bag was a strange lump, a lump that later turned out to be a ball of wet, blue linty cloth-much like the fabric from a blanket or a sheet. Yet I never put a blanket or a sheet in there! And then I said to myself: "Well, I guess I have something more normal and less like a tour of my (possibly phrenetic) mind to post as a blog. I can bury and cover up that previous one that was more like an odd, bizarre tour of my mind than anything else. I guess truth is stranger than fiction-or at least, it is today!" And it was good, too, because I was quite bored before, but now....well, I just don't know. (and strangely enough, this could be a story, but then again, I think that almost anything can be a story, no matter how boring, normal, everyday, or minimalistic it is; well, I have to finish my laundry-and watch over it. Goodbye!)
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