fidesquaerens

Today was laundry day, which in this city and with my mad domestic skills [/sarcasm] means dropping it off at the corner laundromat. I also am bone-tired today from a lack of sleep, so I decided to pick up a pepper pita from the local bodega instead of cooking tonight. Not a bad plan except the bodega is significantly closer to my apartment building than the laundry, so I picked up the laundry first. That meant going into a small bodega with a large duffle bag of laundry and trying to maneuver it while I was waiting for my sandwich to be grilled.

I was talking with another customer and mentioned that I hated laundry day because it meant lugging the bag home. It's more the size than the weight; I just always feel like I'm in the way. He suggested one of those rolling carts, which I used to own in Cleveland for shopping but don't need anymore, because the supermarket is so close and also because I live on the fifth floor with no elevator. I really don't mind the weight, it's the bulk that gets me, and carrying it on my back is the best solution.

It was the guy's next comment that got me. He said that someone as beautiful as me surely had a guy to carry the laundry for her. It wasn't weird - his girlfriend was there - though I don't think I'm beautiful. No, what got me was the idea that I needed a guy to do the heavy lifting. I walk and ride the bus everywhere I go. I climb those same stairs and have the thighs to prove it. I know the guy meant well, but something about that comment really ticked me off. All it took was a single sentence to turn me back into a "little lady."

Dunno if it's just me or not. And I did handle it okay - I didn't talk back but just smiled nicely. Somehow I'm not sure that was the right way to handle it. It definitely left me feeling distinctly icky. :-S