Clean Slate

My trips to the laundromat are almost always interesting. I was starved, I hadn't eaten breakfast, just got up, started a small fire, heated some water, shaved and washed my hair. Stripped out of all the clothes I was wearing and gathered everything together. Headed to town, I stopped at MacDonald's and got a couple of breakfast burritos, put my clothes in the wash cycle, went back out to the Jeep to eat, and I was just sitting there, with the door open, elbows on my knees, eating a burrito, reading a John Sandford novel, when a Latino male ran up to the vehicle and asked if I could take his wife (and him) to the hospital. Her water had broke and she was in labor. She was seriously in labor, and I did not want to deliver a baby on the side of the road, so I used his cell phone, I don't own one, to tell the hospital crew we were coming in. They were great, I heard the baby was delivered on the way to the delivery room. I went back and put my clothes in the dryer. Too much excitement.