Laundromats and the Consequence of Doors That Don't Shut Properly -- Unintended Poetry

@damianjayclay has launched a series of poems taken from conversation at The Writers' Block. He edits the dialogue into poetry format, and turns offhand remarks into spun gold. Here's mine. It's funny, yes. But still--he took my words and gave them meaning. This sums up my day to day life in ways that can't be described by any other means. LOL

Home, thank God.

I've an hour of chores
before I can sit down
but I'm done
with that
dang laundromat.

It was crowded.
A man and his wife
kept arguing.
I wanted to pull
my hair out.

It was up in the air
when they started yelling
across the folding table.

What sent me to the laundromat?

Everything was too big
for the machine at home,
or way too dirty.

I do run a rescue
with dogs and pigs
and goats.

They can be completely
overwhelming.
Especially when people
they don't know
are on the property.

Today, a girl
who helps here
came by with her mother,
in through the downstairs.
All the dogs were barking;
Glory was outside
She saw them arrive,
jerked open the front door
and bolted inside,
to run out through the basement.

She met the girl
at the top of the stairs.
You should have heard the squealing.
I herded Glory back outside before
anyone's digits got eaten.

Glory was not happy, sat in the pine tree
for hours afterward, chuffing
and huffing and whinnying.

I can't explain to a raccoon
that often my doors are closed
for a reason.