Late Night Boredom

The incessant blaring of the alarm clock wakes him with a jolt, David’s head flopping back down just as fast as it arose. Morning was always the worst time of day. Or, well… His morning, if you could consider waking up around 5PM as such. Letting the alarm shriek for a bit, he finally decides to get up and ready for work before he gets into any existential crises about the heat death of the universe.

The commute wasn’t anything unusual: music blaring at top volume, lead foot on the pedal, and road rage at how the hell people can go so slow in the freaking left lane– but the turn is right here so it’s fine. Perfectly fine. He’s here with enough time to spare, and that’s all that matters. Before he forgets again, David clocks in to start the night. 

First, talking to people. 

His coworker walks in from the back room, spots the man, and picks up pace past the lines of machines, eyebrows raised. 

“Holy crap, you’re on time? It’s a miracle!”

David rolls his eyes. “Ha ha… What’s on the menu today? Bleach?”

They snicker. “No, no bleach today. Just a bunch of laundry.”

“Again?”

“Yep, all just for you.” the coworker moves to clock out. “You’ve got a couple loads to do and pack tonight; nothing too bad. You know the drill. Drawer’s already started for you, by the way.”

Day shift doing something useful? That’s the real miracle. 

“Yeah, thanks. See ya later.”

David waves them off as they nearly bolt out the door. Now, for the menial tasks. No weekly ones since it’s Wednesday. Daily tasks are: 

- Look over the machines, make sure there are no errors or damages. 

Check. None seem to have issues. No logs from day shift either. 

- Clean counters

- Clean floors

- Blah, blah…

Now, orders. Two, both for tomorrow:

- Riley by 3AM

- Chrystal by 3:30AM

Doable.

Next, clean up. If you can lean, you can clean, or something like that. Ugh. Thankfully, nobody seems to need help at the moment.

…

Okay, didn’t jinx-

“Excuse me?”

Dammit.

After he helps this person, then he can clean. What do they need? Cleaner? Detergent. They’re asking for detergent since they forgot theirs, okay. Already tired, the employee points them to the detergent dispenser with single use packets. Now that the customer’s gone, the man can actually get to cleaning. Counters, then the floors behind the checkout, and so on. Unbothered, he can space out as much as he pleases, half-assedly wasting the hours away with some music… or he would, if the dolt remembered his earbuds. Double dammit. Guess he’ll have to go without.

~✽~

People came and went as the peak hours flew, leaving the laundromat dead quiet by 10:30. With not a soul around, the employee decides to check those orders’ requirements. He wheels out the first, larger order with a yawn. Gather, stuff in the machine, soap, fabric softener, other stuff, close and wash, repeat. Simple. While the man waits, he lays on a nearby bench to rest. If his earbuds were here, he could block the noise and nap the time away. But alas, he may only enjoy the irregular battering of the washer drums. ‘Round and ‘round they go, throwing clothes to and fro, almost trying to escape the confines of the giant tumbler. Ba-dump, ba-dump goes his heartbeat, failing to synchronize with the rattling. 

The open eye shuts with the other. Humming fluorescent lights harmonize with the air conditioning as a squeak, nearly inaudible, makes itself known. Every shake is a heavy step thumping closer and closer to merge with the newfound chorus, somehow more rhythmic than before. The lights and vents sing, new notes following the little mouse in the metal. Notes and beats merge into the background. The little mouse scurries off, the air conditioning’s breath reduces to nothing, and the chorus ceases to be. Even the washer’s march is fading into obscurity. His thrumming heart beats by its lonesome, soft before it, too, falls away.

Thump

The man raises his head, shoulder aching as he tries to move his half-tucked arm. The other hand feels the ground- ground?- for leverage, freeing the stuck limb with a roll, and lets himself up, huffing all the while. Only when his bleary eyes caught the empty bench next to him did he finally see it. Oh. He fell. Lovely. Check if anyone saw that… Okay, good. Nobody. At least the laundry’s done washing. After transferring all the clothes to the driers at probably the correct settings, he tosses a drier sheet into each one and starts them up. What time is it, anyway? The clock on the wall’s busted, so… phone. He fishes the cell phone from his pocket and wakes it up. 11:43PM. Leaves just enough time to run the next order, finish this one, and start closing things out. Hopefully, he can finish before 1:30 this time.

The night staff sets the device on a nearby drier and drags out the next load of laundry. Gather, stuff, soap, other stuff, close and wash, done. Everything’s in the machines; now to grab the order bags and wait with his phone this time so he doesn’t kiss the floor again. He could’ve gotten them with the last order, but whatever. Doesn’t matter, anyway. Toss them on the machine, grab his phone… The man pats himself down, then looks to the bench. Where– where’s his phone? It was just here! Oh, come on! How does his phone get lost the second it leaves his pocket? Ugh… he’ll find it eventually. 

For sure. 

Maybe.

Opting to just lean on the wall, The employee crosses his arms with a sigh and glances around the room. At first, nothing seems particularly interesting. It is just a laundromat, after all. But then, his eyes land on a spot on the ceiling panel. Water damage has made it worse than yesterday, he notes. Maybe he should tell the owner about it again? It’d be a hassle to clean whenever it falls, if it does. Day shift would definitely leave it for him, too. Assholes. What if all that particle-boardy material gets everywhere because of the damage? How much dust would it drop from the air above? Man, that’d be a bitch. Do those tiles even break apart like that? Do they disintegrate into a bajillion little bits that all get stuck under the dustpan in that stupid little line? Maybe he should stop before he irritates himself. He kind of can’t now, though. The man’s invested too much time into this very meaningless task already. Is the spot getting bigger? He swears he saw the dark border expand just now.

His eyes start to burn before the strain finally gets to him, forcing a few quick blinks. After a brief reprieve, he glances around again. Where’s his phone? A hand reaches for a pocket– right, gone. He forgot. Maybe he left it in his car? No, he just checked the time like 5 minutes ago. Could it be behind the desk? He’s left it there before (thankfully nobody took it)... but it’s not there, either. Investigating the interior, the man searches tables, shelves, other counters, inside some machines… Nothing. Where, oh, where could that little phone be? Lost to the hidden pockets beneath the washers and driers, perhaps? Nope; seems like it could be anywhere but where he’s looked. Is it somehow in one of the-

“OH, my god, the bags!” he voices, jumping from the ground and practically running back to where it was. “I threw the bags on it. Jesus, I’m dumb.” He lifts the bags with triumph, tossing them aside. “Got it!”

Now he can scroll in peace. For a little while, that’s exactly what he does. The mindless consumption makes the time feel like a blur, for once. Swiping and swiping through his feed, the next 20-ish minutes pass by with little of interest appearing on-screen.

~✽~

The familiar beeping of the first washer resounds throughout the laundromat, the second following soon after. David peeps the time at the top of his phone screen before stashing his phone securely away. 12:23AM, nice. He grabs Riley’s bag from its little pile and gets to work packing the clothes, folding them this time since he got reprimanded last shift. Something about a write-up. The man wasn’t listening, especially not on less than 3 hours of sleep. 

As he makes progress through the first order, the washer announces that its cycle has finished, unlocking with a loud click. The employee pauses, transfers the wash to dry with the right settings this time, and returns to his task. Pull, fold, place. Pull, fold, stack, repeat. The repetition would be calming if the boredom didn’t make the time such a slow and painful drag. Nonetheless, he keeps his hands busy with the responsibilities given and expectations to meet. Shirt after shirt, sock after sock, one by one, they all get packed and readied for pick-up. Once the next order has dried, The employee grabs its respective bag and makes quick work of it. By the time he’s done, the clock on his phone reads 1:15AM on the dot. Now he can wait for those folks to pick up their clothes, clean up and go home.

Just as he thought, the customers picked up their orders, he got to cleaning the machines and whatnot, and he was finally able to escape.

  After he counts the drawer first.

Then, he could have that sweet freedom.

Once that’s done, he grabs his car keys, passes the metaphorical torch to the next shift, and makes his way home. He can hear that bed calling his name from here.

Grooowwwl

…after he grabs a bite to eat. This guy forgot lunch again.