This must be the place: 'Dear lord, do right by me, you know I'm tired of being lonesome, ornery and mean'
The empty washer at my local laundromat.
Garret K. Woodward photo
It happened to me, again. Somebody stole my laundry. All of it. And it wasn’t even in the dryer yet. They ran out the door of my neighborhood laundromat in downtown Waynesville with two loads of wet clothes, never to be seen from or worn out and about one more time.
This is the second time in the 13 years I’ve lived in Western North Carolina that this has happened to me. It was the better part of a decade ago when it first occurred, and in the same laundromat. I swore it wouldn’t ever happen again. But, here we are, eh? To note, the washer was broken in my apartment building, which is why and how I found myself back at that particular establishment.
That old saying, “Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me,” echoed loudly through my mind as I stood in front of the empty washing machine. For a split second, I thought, “Maybe some nice person put my stuff in the dryer for me.” Nope. And yet, my eternal optimism for humanity (in general) remains intact, even with this.
I took inventory of what was taken. All of my prized band T-shirts (many of which will never be replaced). My favorite jeans (which they don’t make nowadays). My underwear and socks (who steals that stuff?). And, most importantly, pretty much every piece of my expensive running clothes (which I’ve spent years purchasing and cultivating).
Why? Heck, if you need some clothes, I’ll give you the shirt off my back. But, to swipe all of my stuff? Ugh. The incident in question took place Saturday afternoon. In that moment, it also dawned on me that I now had no jeans or cool T-shirts to wear that night. How is a single, gainfully employed man supposed to wander the dating pool with confidence and the appropriate modern-day aesthetic now? I kid.
For good measure, I went through every washer and dryer. No sign of my attire. I even peered into the trash cans and walked outside and around the facility to check and see if any of my laundry ended up in the bushes or dumpster. You never now, the suspect in question may not be as huge of a Shooter Jennings fan as I am. Damn, I miss that shirt, which was purchased in Monterey, California, in 2022 when I was covering a festival (featuring Jennings) for Rolling Stone.
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And the running clothes. Not the running clothes, dude. For someone like myself who literally runs every single day (I have a running streak going back to Dec. 31, 2015) and relies on Dri-Fit technology to keep me comfortable in the heat and humidity of the South (and of constant assignments on the road), where my “Damn Yankee” blood is seemingly too thick for the summer weather here, those clothes keep me sane.
Thus, I was back to square one, as far as clothing goes. So, now what? Well, luckily, I had a couple pairs of old boxers and t-shirts to get through the weekend until I could go to the Asheville outlet mall and replace my things.
That, and the absolute generosity of several of you out there donating some much-needed funds to my running clothes fund. To note, replacing hundreds (and hundreds) of dollars of that stuff is hard on us folk trying to make a living in realm of the written word (and live modestly).
By Monday afternoon, I found myself parking at my most favorite place in the world (huge sarcasm and eye-roll on my end) — the mall. As a minimalist and someone who gets morally uncomfortable when confronted with massive consumerism and overpriced items for mass consumption, I get a ting of anxiety upon entering the mall.
Two hours later, I emerged from the mall with a few bags of clothes. I was able to replenish my running shorts and shirts. I purchased a couple T-shirts. And I was able to get some fresh boxers and socks, too. With balance somewhat returning to my daily, existential existence, I headed home and began putting everything away in my dresser.
To that, in the last few days, I’ve had some of my favorite bands give/send me T-shirts. A couple have been via snail mail, with one of you incredible readers even sending me a highly-coveted Rolling Stones tour shirt (my all-time favorite rock band, so thank you very much). One of my most beloved rock acts, Larkin Poe, who sold out The Orange Peel in Asheville last Sunday, also handed me a T-shirt.
After the show, LP lead singer Rebecca Lovell walks up to me, gives me a big hug, and goes: “Garret, so good to see you. Heard about the laundry. Sorry, dude.” We had a fine chuckle with that. She then gives me a shirt. As did opener Tyler Ramsey and the Peel, too. Much love and sincere thanks to the kindness and camaraderie I’ve always known and found in the music industry.
So, here I sit at the brand-new Laundry Plus in West Waynesville (next to Ingles). It’s Wednesday afternoon and I’m writing this here column at the counter in the lounge area. State of the art machines. Onsite service and security. Wi-Fi. And mountain views. Sold. After this week of replacing all my stolen clothes, it’s nice to have a spot where I can work and do laundry at the same time. Onward.
Currently, there’s some Waylon Jennings blasting into my headphones as I type away, specifically one of my most cherished tunes, “Lonesome, On’ry and Mean.” I can look up from time to time and see my clothes slowly getting dry. Round-n-round in the machine across the way. A sense of peace. A sense of knowing I have clothes to wear later today when I go for a sweaty jog, when I go to dinner this evening.
And to whoever stole my clothes? I hope you take a deep dive into the music of Shooter Jennings, Duane Betts, The Asheville Mountain Boys, and so forth. Those aren’t just T-shirts, it’s proud advertising for hardworking bands and great music. I also hope you take up jogging and truly understand the ways and means of the universe in doing so.
I also hope that whoever is reading this, that you find humor in what I’ve shared with you today. For humor in everyday life is the only way the world goes ‘round (at least in my book), as with having compassion towards others (known and unknown), and knowing well that the only thing you can control in life is how you react in a given situation.
Life is beautiful, grasp for it, y’all.
