The Laundromat
I went to a laundromat for the very first time yesterday. I had some bed spreads that didn't fit in my washing machine at home. I felt out of place for the first three or so minutes until I realized that laundromats are the greatest places in the world. Where have they been all my life? You get the excitement of putting coins in slots combined with the exhilaration of competing for an open washer/dryer. The anticipation of your laundry finishing makes your heart pump (they have a countdown timer on all machines). You have to make last-minute, executive decisions every which way you turn--do I want hot, cold or warm? Fast, slow, extra clean? Do I want to use two washers, or economize and stuff all my laundry into one, risking an insufficient washing or drying cycle? They give you so much power, so much responsibility, so many opportunities to flounder and ruin everything you'd been working on. I was so astonished by the whole experience that I took a surprised looking tourist picture. Maybe it will soon be online, but it wasn't on my camera, so I couldn't put my finger on when that would be.
Futhermore, I noticed a kind of unspoken law that exists in laundromats. Everybody is well aware that they have their naughty clothes out in the open, so everybody feels vulnerable and refuses to speak--except for me! I was washing a blanket. I got to gawk at whatever I wanted because all of my belongings anybody could see was a blanket. Hoho. I was an outsider in the laundromat comradery. It was astonishing.
Futhermore, I noticed a kind of unspoken law that exists in laundromats. Everybody is well aware that they have their naughty clothes out in the open, so everybody feels vulnerable and refuses to speak--except for me! I was washing a blanket. I got to gawk at whatever I wanted because all of my belongings anybody could see was a blanket. Hoho. I was an outsider in the laundromat comradery. It was astonishing.