Dirty Laundry Secret: Thirsty Thursdays.

Dirty Laundry Secret: Thirsty Thursdays.

I’ve seen a lot of weird things.

I once thought that I laundered hundreds of dollars (I didn’t); had a pants-less customer in my store because he wanted his pants hemmed (he took the “Drop Your Pants Here” sign too literal) and had a father find out his daughter wore panties that said “Crime Scene” (awkward moment).

And, of course, today was another one of those days.

It was 3 o’clock on a Friday afternoon.

It was sunny this time around, which wasn’t always common for a January day in the city. So I definitely wasn’t taking that for granted.

“Time is going by fast today,” I said as I wrapped up a laundry bag. “Thank God.”

“I know that’s right,” my co-worker, Laura, and I chuckled.


Our driver lugged in three bags of laundry, which accidentally hit the door, making it rumble. If any worker was falling asleep, they were awake now.

“Damn they just keep coming today, huh?”

“It’s always good to be busy,” I nudged the driver. “Help me bring ‘em in?”

“Of course.”

The bag I carried was oddly heavier on one side. I put it down on the table and heard a “clank.”

“Did I hear something?”

Laura looked at me, “Are you going crazy already?”

I laughed, “Maybe.” I opened the zipper without looking, “I mean this is like our 20th load today.”

I worked through the bag and sorted everything out — we had some silks, some cottons, some pink shirts, some lace underwear, and a couple of dresses that had stains in odd places.

But hey, I don’t judge.

I was almost towards the bottom of the bag when I felt something hard like glass.

“Glass?” I let my hand navigate around the bag.

Before I reveal what it was, let me paint a picture for you. If you were to take a look inside my brain at this moment — as I tried to figure out what I was touching — you would see:

  1. a glass eye
  2. a glass cup
  3. I don’t know why I would think it’s a glass eye

When I pulled out the mystery item, it was almost like opening one of those toy mystery packs — what the hell could it be?

The top was skinny, but when I ran my hand down further, it got wider. I ran my hand across it a little more and it felt like there were words on it.

“No way this is a…” I pulled it out completely. “A wine bottle?!”

“A what?!” Laura shot over from across the room.

I held the Pinot Grigio bottle in my hands and looked at Laura, then the bottle, then Laura, then the bottle again.

We busted out laughing.

I guess Thirsty Thursdays are still a thing.

THE DAY BEFORE —3:03 a.m.

“Laura, you really said tipsy tie dye,” my friend slurred.

I took a sip from my wine bottle, “Yes ma’am,” I sipped again. “I did,” I probably slurred, (but to me I sounded perfect).

I had a bright, tie-dyed shirt, felt warm, and was about to eat leftover pizza at home. Life was good.

My friend held the door for me as I tried to compose myself. Our other friend, who was under no type of influence, pulled out his phone to call an Uber, “Laura, what’s your address again?”

“Woah, woah, woah!” my friend slowly hopped in front of him.

“Dummy, I’m calling you both an uber to her place,” he said, as I sipped the wine again. “You’re closest, right?”

“Roger, roger,” I saluted with the bottle.

“Laura, you can’t be drinking that out here!” he tried pulling it out of my hand, but the grip I had on it would make you think it was made out of gold.

“Shhh,” I put my finger to his mouth.

“Y-Yeah,” he brushed me off, slightly chuckling. “I’m sending y’all home.”

12:01 p.m.

“Oh shit, I’m late for work!”

I felt slow, dizzy, and slightly regretted drinking that whole bottle of wine. I forced myself up and went through my 30-minute morning routine in just 10 minutes — a new record.

“W-Work?” my friend, who was half passed out on the floor muttered.

“Yes,” I tapped in concealer under my eyes. “At Juliette.”

“But you’re Laura…”

I chucked a pillow at her face, “Shut up,” I laughed.

I was almost out the door when I shouted, “They’re picking up my laundry in 10 minutes too so grab that pile of clothes next to you and chuck it into my laundry bag. Drink that water bottle I left by your head then drag my laundry bag to the door. Got it? Thanks, love ya” I shut the door.

“L-Love ya,” she slowly got up and did what I asked — only the wine bottle was chilling on top of the pile of clothes and was now on its way to Juliette.

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