Tuesday, January 7
Several days have gone by since I reported the activities of me and my crew from our camp on the Kofa National Wildlife Refuge between Yuma and Quartzsite in southwestern Arizona.
We’re still here!
I don’t recall what day it was . . .
I load up the front seat of the Perfect Tow Vehicle with an enormous mound of dirty laundry, completely obliterating my view of the side mirror. It’s been a very long time since I’ve seen the inside of a laundromat!
Which way to go?
Well, Yuma is about 60 miles south from our camp on Palm Canyon Road, whereas Quartzsite is about half that distance to the north.
We turn right and head up 95. It’s a straight shot to Big Q.
Close to town we pass the Long Term Visitor Area at La Posa.
Retire and spend winters with a hundred neighbors. Enjoyed by many but it’s not for us!
Tents and crowds are gathering in Quartzsite.
I take this photo from the intersection as we stop for the light.
The laundromat is small and it is packed!
As I find a parking place, I notice a red LazyDaze. Nice Class C . . . reminds me of Tioga George’s stories about taking his rig to the laundromat.
This photo was taken later, after several laundromat patrons had left.
I storm into the bustling establishment with my laundry basket piled high. Only three machines are empty… two regular at the back and one super-big at the front. I’d better grab those machines fast or we could be here for hours.
I jam a bunch of clothes into the big washer.
The lady next to me starts a conversation. Oh, boy, here we go. Just what I need. Some compulsive talker aborting my mission. Go away, lady. I’ve got to grab those two other washers! What is it with people having to talk all the time . . . sheesh . . .
This photo has nothing to do with the story. Just providing a little visual break . . .
The lady opens the soap dispenser flap for me.
She kindly holds it open while I pour in the detergent. I thank her without eye contact and rush out to the PTV for more dirty clothes. Back in I go at lightning speed, zipping to the washers in the back. Got ’em! Whew!
I avoid the lady who tried to start up a conversation.
Gee, I was kind of rude to her. Well, gosh, I’m not going to chat with every stranger . . .
After waiting in the PTV with Bridget and Spike for about 20 minutes, I re-enter the laundromat and move the clothes in one of those wire carts over to the wall of dryers.
Another little break. This is better than pics of the inside of a laundromat, right?
The same lady starts loading her clothes in the dryer next to mine. She says something I don’t hear well because of the noise. Hmm . . She has a German accent.
The lady leans her head close to mine and says . . .
“I’m Ilse.”
Well, she coulda’ hit me in the head with a sack of wet laundry.
“ILSE!,” I exclaim. “Oh no! I didn’t know that was YOU!” I throw my arms around her and bury my red face in her shoulder. “I am SO embarrassed!”
At this point I wish I could hide behind a creosote bush in the desert.
You see, dear reader, I met Ilse only about two weeks ago when we both camped at Sidewinder Road. You may remember better than I did . . . Ilse sat in one of my camp chairs and we talked for about an hour. I posted photos of her golden retriever, Max, and of her and Max walking back to their camp.
Or maybe lie flat in a wash with my face in the dirt.
Graciously, Ilse gives me an excuse.
“That’s okay. I had on a hat and sunglasses that day.”
We continue loading dryers, talking and laughing.
All the while I’m processing what I did. I was so rude. I am such a dunce. How many people have I talked to in the past YEAR who speak with a German accent? And the red LazyDaze! I knew she had a red LazyDaze. I looked at her rig and never made the connection!
I make a lame attempt to explain my behavior. “I have poor face recognition . . .” Blah, blah, blah. I confess the evil thoughts I had.
Ilse laughs it off . . . “Oh, it doesn’t matter.”
I’d like to change the subject.
Let’s see . . . Moving right along . . .
It’s always nice to come home to our little capsule.
I put my folded-up stepladder behind a bush and folded-up chairs inside. I leave the blue mat down.
I finally get around to some projects.
Besides the magnet, the hide-a-key is secured with a plastic zip thingy through the tiny hole (on right).
Remember when I locked myself out of the PTV at Sand Island Campground, Bluff, Utah?
I vowed that would never happen again because I was going to set up a hide-a-key. Well, that was last MAY. Yep, last May.
Today I set up a hide-a-key. My brain is in time-delay mode, you see.
A month is but a day, a day is but an hour . . .
Another project about which I procrastinated is fixing the plastic shelf for the refrigerator door. A while ago — oh, maybe THREE MONTHS ago or so — a flying liter of soda cracked the shelf when we bounced over a washboard road on our way to a boondock.
This is my first repair job using Gorilla Glue. Hope it holds!
And finally . . . I’ve wanted a dust mop so I can reach the solar panel’s surface to clean it when the panel is tilted. The store didn’t have a dust mop, so I bought an old-fashioned cotton “rag” mop instead.
All I needed to do today was wipe off the desert dust.
It’s probably better than a dust mop. I can use it with water to wash the panel if it gets very dirty. Today I also used the dry mop to dust off the Best Little Trailer, too.
This is a long post.
I did that on purpose for my readers who are housebound due to the extreme cold and snow. By now I figure restlessness is setting in. I hope this post is a welcome diversion.
I include this photo even though it’s not very good. Why? So you can look for a little girl too lazy and stubborn to keep up with Spike and me on our walk.
Spike is the opposite. I have to hurry to keep up with him. He loves to run around the desert.
“Hey, you renegade! Wait for me!”
rvsue
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