First Apartment: The Laundromat

At least you can be assured I did not forget about posting altogether.  What follows is one of the entries I'd written on scrap paper while I was waiting around for something and had nothing else to do but stare at the wall.  I stared at the wall for about 10 minutes before I realized I could be doing something more constructive--and interesting.  I hope you enjoy.

September 3, 2007

The Laundromat

I'm sitting in a Dunkin' Donuts here in town; my purpose is threefold: 1) to get out of the apartment to write this post, letting my roommate sleep late in peace; 2) to consume a rather obscene amount of sugar in the form of an iced coffee and a coffee cake muffin (i.e., 100% sugar), since we are currently out of groceries and have yet to muster up the energy to walk to the store; and 3) to kill time while I wait for my laundry to finish washing.

This is actually the first time I've ventured away from the laundromat while waiting for my clothes.  I have learned several things already this morning, and it is only just 11 o'clock.  First, it is much more comfortable to sit at Dunkin' Donuts than to wait inside the laundromat for my clothes, since I have a table to write on, sugar to inspire me (or at least hype me up), and a much more pleasant smell to enjoy.  Fewer flies to swat, too.  Second, I don't like hazelnut iced coffee.  And third, carrying two small loads of laundry in one gym bag is much easier than trying to cram three loads into two bags, no matter what kind of math you use.

I've always been the kind of person who prefers the fewest number of trips, even if it means turning into a pack mule in the process.  But treks to the laundromat have become so odious, I've started to put them off until the last possible minute: until I'm down to the last pair of underwear.

Underwear is the limiting factor for me.  I bought more when I was in college so I wouldn't have to do laundry as often.  Trick is, there will always be a day when you only have one pair left, however many you start with.  In winter, socks often become the limiting factor, but right now, I can't remember the last time I wore socks.  (Actually, it was last night, but that was an isolated incident.)  I was so spoiled when I was in college.  There were washers and dryers right there on the first floor of my dorm. Dragging my laundry basket down three flights of stairs, however annoying it may have seemed at the time, is nothing compared to weighing myself down with several loads and walking 10 minutes to the nearest laundromat. 

The joys of cheap rent include a built-in fitness plan in conjunction with the local laundromat. 

My new philosophy on picking out clothes in the morning is "You wear it, you lug it."  I try to keep things as clean as possible and avoid putting them in the hamper for as long as I can.  (Febreze, by the way, is a good way to keep a shirt smelling ok for another wear--even if they don't know how that "breeze" is spelled with two e's.)

I'm back in the laundromat now, switching my clothes to the dryer. A fly just landed on my ankle.  They're all over the place, the flies.  As I look around, the word "grime" comes to mind all too readily: the machines, the floors, the chairs, the walls, the overhead fans whose blades are bumpy and woolly with black gunk (Lint? I wonder).  The floor is a horrible tan and beige linoleum that makes me think of my grandmother's bathroom.  The smell here, while not entirely unpleasant, is not entirely pleasant either.  The washer in front of me is emanating a particularly pungent detergent smell, which seems more to me like dishwasher soap than laundry soap.  Perhaps someone had an innocent mix-up of cleaning agents.

I swat another fly and think forward to the day when, hopefully, I will have my own home with my own washer and dryer.  I know they'll eventually collect their own grime and set of bugs--spiders, probably.  But for now the thought cheers me, and I hum a bit, tapping my foot to the beat.  Heck, maybe I'll even get to pick out my own linoleum.  At that, my foot thumps away like a dryer on spin cycle. 

I never knew I found linoleum so inspiring.  But today is a day of learning, I guess.

Oh, wait--false alarm.  It's just the sugar. 

I wonder what will happen when the caffeine kicks in.