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.
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.