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I’ve never thought of laundry as a religious experience.

The closest I ever came was years ago when I stuck a fiberglass cloth in with a load of underwear. For weeks, I itched in places I can only describe as private and sensitive.

Apparently, I never went to the right Laundromat.

My sons eagerly passed this picture along to me over the weekend. They had run across it at a Lawrence Laundromat.

Presumably the writer meant “lint,” not “Lent.”

I’ve tried to envision Lent in a bathtub, as in:

I’ll be paying my penitence in the shower.

Or:

For the next 40 days, please forward my mail to the bathroom.

Then again, perhaps I should take the advice of John McCormally, a former Hutchinson News editor, who once growled to one of my colleagues there: “Don’t (blank) with religion.” (You can imagine was the blank was.)

To which I’d add: Don’t wash fiberglass with your underwear.

Even at a Laundromat that observes Lent.